True Lovers' Knot
by keshyn
Summary: After finding Snape clinging to life on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, Hermione finds an unlikely friend, until one night their relationship shifts irrevocably. Seven years later, they run into each other and fall back into old patterns, beginning something that neither of them had ever anticipated. SS/HG - EWE - M for language and adult content.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** With thanks to my husband, who spent hours rescuing this after I accidentally deleted every damn word.  
And with apologies to JK Rowling for well... all of it.

 **M for adult language, theme and some smut***

This story is told from two, alternating perspectives in both third and first person.  
It sounds ridiculous because it is ridiculous, but it was a lot of fun to write and so hopefully, somewhat enjoyable to read.

Severus' perspective is marked as S.  
Hermione's as H.  
Internal monologue is in italics.

 **"When love is not madness, it is not love."**

* * *

1\. Speechless

 **S.**

From his fingertips to his toes, his nerves blistered as though on fire, and he began, in his delirium, to wonder if there was more than one wound. He gripped his throat so tightly, he thought he might choke. His fingers trembled, clinging onto his skin; into his cuts. It was this or blood loss. Blood loss was death, no doubt. Snape had known from the beginning that Dumbledore's plan was risky. There were too many variables. Too much relied on things falling perfectly into place, which they rarely ever did.

 _Not in my experience, anyway. God, everything hurts._

If Potter hadn't shown up when he did, he wouldn't have been able to pass on what he knew and the boy would never have known that he was to die. He would have fought until the very end, taking God knows how many innocent people with him.

 _All because that preposterous old fool didn't trust anybody, and that little brat wouldn't take his Occlumency lessons seriously. Potter has the memories. He's probably running off to Dumbledore's office right now to stick that thick head of his into that bloody pensieve._ _The Dark Lord believes I am dead._ _I have fulfilled my end of the bargain. So where is the fucking phoenix I was promised?_

Snape stared into the dark of the shack that would soon become his final resting place if that damned bird didn't show up soon. He kept his one hand fixed to the pulsing wreckage of his throat, and used the other to pat the dank floor in search of his wand.

 _I will not die here in this place; the refuge of the so-called 'Marauders'. I refuse._

He seethed as one of the old floorboards splintered and shot into his fingertip.

 _Where is my fucking wand!? Where is that resplendent pigeon!? If I ever make it out of here, I will find that bloody bird and stuff it._

Every second that passed - and Fawkes did not emerge to heal him - was a second closer to death.

 _I was loyal to Dumbledore until the very end, was I not? I am here on his orders, aren't I? I stuck to his plan, ridiculous as it was. I did everything he asked me to do. I'm going to fucking die! For him? Harry fucking Potter!_

Snape curled his hand around the familiar grip of his wand and his mind ran frantically through his options. He wasn't fit to apparate. Even if he could, where the hell would he go? Even if he had a place of refuge - somewhere, anywhere to go - he couldn't risk it.

 _I'm supposed to be dead. Dead men don't apparate._

Still the bird did not appear and Severus felt panic rise in his chest. He had waited long enough. The longer he waited, the louder he heard the call of those he had lost. Lily's call. His mother's call. Albus' call.

'Join us.'

The bird wasn't coming. He knew it then, as he'd known it all along.

 _A healing spell... a healing spell. Okay. Fuck! I can do this. If only my head would stop spinning for thirty bloody seconds so I could think._

A clattering, followed by the unmistakable sound of footfall forced Snape's heart straight into his gullet. He closed his eyes, and held his breath. It took all of his strength to force his hand away from his throat. He kept his mouth shut like a bear trap. He daren't move. Daren't look down. What would he see? How much blood had he lost? He wanted to gasp, wanted to scream - it wouldn't just give him away - it would kill him.

The footsteps moved closer and Severus could hear the hammering of his heart, betraying his living energy. Not dead. Alive. Alive and in danger. He felt the brush of air against his clothes, as someone rushed towards him. His heart beat faster and harder when he felt the warmth of touch against his hand, and there was a wave of a vaguely floral perfume that lingered under his nose. It was pleasant and familiar. He felt the hands move from his, and it was all he could do not to grab hold, cling for dear life. And then there came pressure on his wrist.

 _They're checking my pulse. I'm fucked._

"Professor?"

He recognised the voice immediately.

 _Oh, fuck off. Really? Her?!_

Snape opened his eyes and took in the ghostly pale face of Hermione Granger. She was a picture of fear, and he wasn't afraid to admit that the sight afflicted him.

 _Is she frightened of what she sees? Is she frightened of me? Death Eater. Dumbledore's killer._

"You're alive?"

 _For now._

Snape opened his mouth and tried to say the words, but all that came was a gargled, strangling sound. His eyebrows narrowed as he tried again.

 _I can't speak? Of course I can't speak. I can hardly bloody breathe._

"You can't talk", she said, gently. "It's the damage from the bite."

 _Really? Nothing escapes you, does it?_

 _Oh god!_

As she moved his hand, blood pulsed from the laceration and he held his breath once more. Pain. Everything was pain. Pain is all that there was.

"I'm sure it will be fine", she said.

 _Fix it!_

'Join us!'

 _No. I don't want to die! Not here. Not now._

She tore the sleeve of her shirt and pressed it against his throat like a tourniquet. She was gentler than he'd anticipated, and although her fingers shook, her furrowed brow told him that she was determined.

 _Imagine if it was the know-it-all that got me out alive._

Hermione summoned her bag and plunged her hand deep inside and pulled out a small glass bottle of clear liquid. She unstoppered it, and used the dropper to apply the liquid liberally to the bite-mark. He began to feel better immediately.

 _Essence of Dittany. She's prepared, at least. Will I live?_

Everything was pain still, but it was cloudy. It did not snap at his chest. It simply sat atop it, clutching his very essence in its claws. She did not meet his eye. She had yet to even look at his face. Maybe if she imagined he was somebody else, she could work faster.

 _Maybe not looking at you is the only way she can work on you at all. Maybe if she looked at you, she would walk away and leave you here to die._

:

 **H.**

 _How has he survived this? I was sure I would return to a dead man. Why did I come? What do I do? God, I'm out of my depth._

Hermione held her breath as she allowed another couple of drops of Dittany to fall onto the laceration on Snape's throat. She placed the tourniquet back, and held it tight to his skin. His robes were thick with blood; his black hair was matted and sticky. Her eyes fell to the floor and she held her gaze on one of the knots in the wood. Anything to avoid looking at him. If she saw those black eyes, she might lose focus. How would Harry feel if he knew she was here, in this place, with the man who killed Dumbledore? She wondered what memories had been relinquished. Was there more to the story?

 _There is always more to the story._

She'd known from the moment Snape began to surrender that silvery liquid that there was something that she didn't know; something that nobody knew. Hermione moved her hand from his throat, and was pleased to see that it began to heal. She grabbed her wand from her pocket and summoned a small bowl and some gauze from inside her bag.

She placed the tip of her wand against the lip of the bowl and said, "Aguamenti."

Hermione soaked the gauze in the water, wrung it out and applied it to the wound. She began to see the extent of the damage. Although the Dittany had closed the cuts, there was extensive damage where the snake had attacked. She had expected puncture wounds, but the snake had torn his throat to shreds.

"How are you still alive?" she asked, locking her eyes on another knot in the dusty floorboards. "I don't understand. This should have killed you. If not from the lacerations, then surely her venom should have killed you."

She ran her fingers across his throat and then lingered, tracing the lines of the cut. He sucked in a sharp breath.

 _Shit._

"Sorry".

Severus leant back on to the wall behind him and rested his heavy head on his shoulder. He pushed her hand aside, and ran his own across the injury.

 _Stubborn ox._

His fingers followed its sharp edges, moving along the horizontal line from under his ear to below his opened his mouth to speak again but no words came.

"What can I do to help, Sir?"

He opened his mouth and inhaled with a depth she supposed came from near his stomach.

"Go", he just about managed.

"You want me to leave?"

He winced as he shook his head.

 _He will die if I don't take him somewhere. Is that what he's telling me. He needs to get out of here. Back to the castle?_

"I could take you to the hospital wing?"

Snape grabbed her hand, and she snapped her head up to look at him. His eyes were fierce and frightened.

"Nuh."

"Why?" she asked. "They're much better prepared to care for you than I am."

 _More willing to care for you than I am._

He raised his hand to his throat, and then pointed with a limp hand, in a gesture that she supposed was towards outside in general.

"... Voldemort?" she ventured.

Snape nodded.

 _Ah, right._

"You're supposed to be dead?"

He nodded again.

"And you need to _stay_ dead."

:

 **S.**

"Okay, I'll figure something out. You should just keep hold of your wound, okay?" Granger said. "I know that the Dittany has healed most of it, but you can't be too sure. And rest your voice, we don't want to do further damage. We need to go somewhere safe - perhaps somewhere secret-kept, like Shell Cottage. Although I don't know how Bill and Fleur would feel about having you there. They were nice enough to take in Griphook, but then again Griphook didn't kill Dumbledore..."

 _Well, neither did I. Not really._

"... There's got to be somewhere I can take you. St. Mungo's maybe? Although, there will probably be too many people there, you're bound to be seen..."

 _God, does she ever shut up? Maybe dying wouldn't be so terrible. Death would be preferable to listening to her insufferable, incessant chatter. Do you know what? Just leave me here._

Severus coughed impatiently which was then followed by a splutter as he choked. She pushed her hand to his throat. Even though he was no longer bleeding, he could quite easily split open his scars. He was grateful.

 _And stupid._

"Can you not undo all of my work please by being hot-tempered", she said. "I'm trying my best. I don't know where to take you. I need to leave you with someone who can look after you."

Snape shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"I can't leave you alone. How will you take care of yourself?"

 _Much in the same way I have cared for myself these past forty years._

But the thought occurred to him then, that perhaps he did need someone to care for him, and he shuddered. He couldn't go anywhere. As much as it pained him to admit it, he was reliant on her now. His life was literally, in her hands.

She moved her fingers from his throat and Snape clicked his fingers to get her attention. He allowed the cracked rasp of his voice to say 'hurry'. It was almost decipherable. She screwed up her face and he jutted his chin at the doorway, then wrapped his hand around her wrist and tugged a little harder than he needed, to tell her that he was ready to go.

:

 **H.**

 _God, I don't know what to do._

Hermione paced the shack, and each time the floorboards squeaked under foot, she felt her heart pause in its rhythm. There was only one place she could think to take him.

 _Do I dare? Do I even want to?_

She knew he would be safe there, because she had ensured that it was safe herself. A great number of spells and wards and vows kept the place a secret. And nobody would ever think to look for him there, if they even bothered to look for him at all.

 _I can't leave him there alone. I would have to stay with him._

He would need someone to look after him, whether he liked it or not.

 _Take him there. Or leave him here. That's it. Those are your options._

"Can you stand?" she asked.

He narrowed his eyebrows and put his hands on the floor, palms down and flat. He pushed up, all of his weight onto his arms and when his elbows buckled and he crumpled; he let out a frustrated groan that didn't suit him. Usually, he was frustrated with a student's incompetence; he was never frustrated because _he_ couldn't do something.

 _Was there anything he couldn't do?_

His eyes shot wide, and Hermione's followed, when the sound of footsteps came from outside the room. The sound grew louder as whoever made it, grew closer. Hermione felt her heart in her throat and wondered if he felt the same. They shared a look, and she knew that he was frightened. It was his fear that upped her terror.

 _Make a decision, Hermione. Take him or leave him._

"Come on", she said quickly, and moved to his side. "Come on. I'm going to take you home."

"Nuh!"

"Not yours. Mine."

She lifted his arm and wrapped it around her neck and shoulder and pulled out her wand, and just as the door swung open, with a crack, Hermione and Snape disapparated into the darkness. She had transferred the property into her name, in case she needed to return. Not that it felt much like home without her parents to greet her. Severus moved slowly in a stagger into the room behind her, as she turned on the living room lights.

:

 **S.**

 _She's taking me home? Why? She can't trust me... surely?_

A sour voice came from the back of his mind.

 _Why the hell would she trust you, you miserable old bastard? Have you ever given her a reason to? Have you ever given anyone a reason to?_

 _Dumbledore,_ he answered it, _and what a waste of my energy that was. The Potter boy was to die anyway. Why did I even bother putting in those twenty years of service?_

She pulled out her wand, and he thought for a moment that she was going to hex him.

 _I spend too much time with bloody Death Eaters._

Instead, she carefully levitated him up the stairs and into a small bedroom, no larger than a jail cell at Azkaban. Not that he cared to remember his time there. Even though it had only been a three-week stint in his teens. It was enough to know that he never wanted to return.

 _Will they throw me back in if I return to the wizarding world? Will Potter tell them that I'm not a murderer? Not in the conventional sense. Will they listen to him? Will he even survive?_

Hermione flicked her wrist and parted the covers on the single bed that filled the whole length of the room.

"This is our guest bedroom, sorry it's so small", she said, almost guiltily. "You could have my room, I guess, if you need more space?"

 _Oh, fuck no! Absolutely not._

She caught his wild eyes, and he watched hers flicker across his face, unable to find a resting place, and then she laughed. He wasn't sure what it was that was so funny, but to his surprise, it was nice to hear her laughter. It had been so long since he had seen joy. Longer still since he had felt it.

But that was before. His role was done now. He had played Death Eater and Spy for long enough. It was over, if he wanted it to be. He could walk away if he so chose.

 _If only I could fucking walk._

:

 **H.**

"I think you should get some rest", she said, and tilted her head towards the bed.

He didn't react, but Hermione had learned that silence was as good a response as any when it came to Professor Snape. He nodded and moved his arms to pull off his cloak, but he moved too quickly and he let loose a howl of pain.

"Let me?" she asked.

She made sure that it was a question. The upward inflection was important when it came to dealing with a proud man, she had learned.

 _Ron is a proud man, too._

He didn't come across that way in the beginning, what with his humour and laid-back attitude. But underneath it all, he valued power and status above all else.

 _Probably because he's never had much of either._

Hermione's gaze fell to the window, past the glass to the street outside, where children played in the garden across the street, oblivious to the war in the wizarding world.

 _God, I miss Ron. I hope he's okay._

A wicked voice in the back of her mind responded.

 _You should be with him._

She moved towards Snape, standing behind him, keeping as much distance between them as she could while still being useful. She held his cloak, helping to guide it off his body, while he shrugged out of it. He winced and flinched with every movement.

 _I can help, if you'd only bloody let me._

Snape lowered himself carefully onto the bed and climbed in. He kicked off his boots and they dropped to the floor with a thud. He moved onto his side and tucked his knees up with great difficulty.

"You sleep in the foetal position? I'd never have expected that of you", she said.

 _Why did you say that?_

"Not that I've ever thought about you sleeping at all. That would be weird. Honestly, I'm just a little creeped out by this situation. I'm sorry."

 _Oh my God, why can't I stop talking!_

"I promise I've never thought about you that way. I don't think I ever imagined you sleeping at all. I know that you must sleep, but it doesn't seem like something you'd do. Now if you told me that you crawled into a coffin every morning to avoid the sunlight, that I could believe..."

He looked at her, and raised one eyebrow, and made another small strangled sound, but instead of pain, it sounded almost like laughter.

 _Did I make him laugh?_

 _Can he laugh? Is he capable?_

He lay his head on the pillow. His black hair spilled across the white cotton, in perfect contrast.

"Aren't you going to take off your clothes first?"

His face was pure horror.

 _That'd be a 'no', then? Can't say I'm disappointed._

"I'll be next door in my old room. If you need me, just give me a shout."

He rolled his eyes.

"Right, okay, err, you can't shout. Obviously... So... should I stay with you then, in case you need something?"

Snape pulled his wand from under the pillow and with a dramatic, irritated flick of his wrist, he whipped the lamp off the bedside table and sent it crashing into the wall opposite the window. It shattered, and the sound splintered into the silence, echoing around the room.

"I suppose that will do."

She stepped towards the door and with a turn of her head she said, "you can clean that up, by the way."

With another flourish of his wand, the broken pieces of the lamp swam through the air, and joined together, landing perfectly back on the table in one piece. It was beautifully done, really.

"Right, I'll leave you, then. Goodnight, Professor."

She lingered in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of him, before flicking the switch on the wall and plunging the room into darkness.

 _This is too weird. Professor Snape... in my house? I wish I could tell Ginny. Or Ron. I'll tell them when I see them._

 _ **If**_ _you see them,_ the wicked voice said. _You don't know if they are dead or alive_. _You don't know anything. You have sided with an intolerable heel, while your friends are out there fighting a war... without you._

She stood out on the landing, unable to commit herself to the four walls of a room. She was there in the in-between space.

 _What have I done? I don't know what to do now. I don't know why I'm here. I just don't know._

And that was the truth. Hermione wasn't sure of very much at present. She wasn't sure if her friends were safe, or in peril; dead or alive. She didn't know why she'd chosen to help Snape. Or if it was the right call. She didn't know why she'd gone back for him in the first place. She was sure of so very little.

But of the things she knew, she was absolutely certain.

One.  
 _It won't be easy._

Whatever came next would test her patience and her nerve. Snape was a difficult man at the best of times, and this might well be the _worst_ of times.

Two.  
 _There is more to the story._

There was something she didn't know, and whatever the secret was, she wanted in on it. The man she had known for seven years was a bully and a wretch, no doubt... but a villain? A murderer?

That was yet another thing that she didn't know.

And finally, three.  
 _He needs me_.

And that was reason enough to help, wasn't it? Who would she be if she walked away from someone who needed her? Hermione Granger loved a project, and she had found one, broken and bloodied; clinging to life on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.

Hermione stepped further onto the landing and leant against the bannister. She rubbed her temples with fingers, in a bid to stop the blistering, pounding ache inside her head.

 _He's here now. He's safe now. That is all that matters. But what about tomorrow? What the hell have I gotten myself into?_


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** So, funny story. I sort of managed to set my laptop on fire. As such, the hours of improvement and editing I made on the next fifteen damn chapters are lost to the ether. Turns out husbands can retrieve deleted files, but they can't un-set fires. I edited this as much as my poor brain could cope with. My apologies if it is a little messy. Okay well, have a great day, friends, and er... don't set fire to your laptops! Byeeee x

* * *

2\. Satisfaction

 **H.**

Hermione brushed the sleep out of the corner of her eyes and pulled her thick curls into a knot at the crown of her head. As she shook off the weight of the morning, she recalled the peach fuzz of a dream from the night before. A man, all in black, wrapped in the crisp, white sheets of her parents' guest bedroom. She pulled on her dressing gown, slid her feet into her slippers and made her way down the landing. Her fingers rapped lightly on the door, awaiting a response that didn't come. She twisted the doorknob, knocking again, and popped her head around the door. He lay, exactly as he had before, deathly still between the sheets, curled into the foetal position. His dark hair spilled across the pillow like a Rorschach test. It was madness that Professor Snape lay before her, after all. She saw the very same figures in the inkblot as she had the night before. He had not moved.

She cleared her throat, in an attempt to rouse him, but he did not stir.

"Sir?"

Nothing.

"Professor?"

She swept further into the room until she loomed over him.

"Professor Snape?"

Hermione felt her heart beat in her ears as she extended a trembling finger and prodded the man between his shoulder blades. She expected him to snap awake; to yell, to chastise her, but he didn't move. With a jolt of courage, she pulled his shoulder down so that he turned onto his back. His eyes were open but he stared through her. She wished she could look through his eyes to see what he saw, as she placed her hand gently beside him and lowered herself on to the edge of her bed.

"Do you sleep with your eyes open?"

His eyebrows narrowed and he pulled the sheets up to his chin as a shield.

 _You're awake then._

"I thought for a moment you were dead."

"You should be so lucky", he croaked.

"Hey! You can talk."

He nodded.

"Is it painful?" she asked.

"No more so than this conversation".

Hermione flashed a sardonic smile.

"Maybe you should rest your voice today then", she mocked.

"Will you rest yours?"

"Are you telling me I talk too much?"

Snape rolled his eyes.

 _I'm not that bad, am I?_

Hermione wondered if a hurt look had crossed her face, because he rolled his eyes again, only more theatrically. He turned over so that his back was to her and pulled the sheets over his head like a shroud. With that, the conversation was over, and Hermione had been dismissed.

:

 **S.**

"Right, come on, Professor. It's time to get up. You've already missed breakfast."

He stared at her, attempting to pierce her brown eyes with his black. She swallowed and he was pleased to find that he could still perturb her.

"I'm fine where I am."

The sound of his voice was so alien a thing. It was a pathetic sound. It did not belong to a man as imposing as he.

"Come on, now", she said again, her voice stronger than before. "Stop sulking. Get up."

"No", he snipped.

He finished the sentence in his head, _and I do not sulk._

"You're supposed to be resting your voice."

 _Fine, I'll rest my voice. I can say everything I need to with two fingers. One would even suffice across the pond, I believe._

"You know, you're very rude", Hermione said with a gentle laugh. "I brought you something to eat."

The girl stepped out on to the landing and returned with a tray in her arms. On it was a glass of what might have been orange juice and a plate of burnt baked beans on soggy toast.

 _Disgusting._

"I'm not eating that."

"There's not much food in the house."

"Piss off. I'm not hungry."

His stomach growled then, just to undermine him in front of her. Even his body was beginning to betray him now.

 _Wonderful._

"Eat it", she said, "you obviously need to."

Snape slapped the tray out of her hands, and as it hurtled to the ground he felt the familiarity of a flash of shame; his hands wrapped themselves into fists.

 _How dare she! She's infuriating!_

"I told you, I want to be left alone."

Her face flushed pink.

"Fine!" she said. "Starve. See if I care."

She did care though, demonstrably, because she returned four hours later with another tray of food. She didn't speak to him, however. She simply left the tray on the floor and left.

 _Like a bloody prisoner._

When the latch clicked and the girl had left, Severus slumped onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

 _This is not what was supposed to happen. We didn't discuss this when we made the plan, did we, Albus? I knew it! I knew that I needed a contingency plan, but no! I trusted you when you said you'd come through. Now I'm dependent on this... this child._

A voice in his mind, that sounded suspiciously like Lucius, cleared its throat. _She's almost nineteen,_ it said. _At least she's not bad to look at_. _It could be worse, Severus. You could be stuck here with Potter._

 _Oh God, imagine._

 _It's been a long time since you were alone with a girl ..._ it said.

 _Oh, piss off you old pervert,_ he told it, and curled back into the bed sheets, willingly surrendering to the knowledge that if he sank any lower, the bed might just swallow him whole.

 _She's only trying to help, you know?_ the voice said, gently. _And you need her..._

 _I know,_ he told it. _And I can't stand it._

:

 **H.**

Hermione took the empty tins from the kitchen counter, and dropped them into the bin. As she wiped down the surface, she craned her head to listen to what sounded like a patter of footsteps above her.

 _He's out of bed._

She popped the cloth into the sink, switched off the kitchen light and plunged onto the sofa, kicking her legs up over the arm. She flicked through some twenty channels before turning the television off and summoning a book from her bag. At least she had that with her, and thankfully she had swapped out the books before she left so that she had something new to read.

 _The battle must be over by now. Did we... did we win? I shouldn't have to wonder, I should know. I should be there. Ron and Harry need me._

They weren't entirely useless without her, of late; quite able to stand on their own two feet. But they worked best as a trio. Yet she couldn't go to them, back to where she belonged, because she couldn't explain what she was doing locked up in her parents' house, without outing Professor Snape to the world. However, that concern was becoming less and less pressing with every snide comment and look of contempt.

 _So what if they know he's alive?_

But Hermione knew that if the battle was over, and they had not been victorious, then to tell anyone where she was or who she was with, was akin to murder-suicide.

 _We must have won... Right?_

As she flicked through the pages of the book, not really taking in its content, Hermione's mind played through potential scenarios. She imagined the battle. Ron and Harry sticking together, no matter what. They probably wondered where she was, but they did not look for her. They stayed on task. She heard the floorboards creak above her once more, followed by a thud, but she chose to ignore it.

 _He'll come down when he's ready,_ she thought.

It was one of those automatic thoughts; the ones that you don't craft or control - they're by instinct - and it surprised her how calm she was with the whole situation. He had been unthinkably rude, and yet, she understood. He did not want to be here any more than she did. The difference between them was that she had been able to choose - bringing him here was her choice, freely made. He'd simply been along for the ride.

A crashing from above jolted Hermione into the present. She dropped the book and walked quickly up the stairs. She did not run, but there was an inexplicable urgency in her movements. She knew that most likely, he had thrown the tray again in a fit of wanting to make his displeasure known. But as her heart tripped over itself and her legs powered below her, she wondered if her body knew something she didn't. She flung the door open, ready to chastise him for making more mess and causing further damage. But her eyes fell to the floor, where he lay at her feet; hunched and crumpled, like discarded paper.

"Oh shit", she said, dropping to her knees. "Are you okay?"

"I fell", he said miserably.

"I can see that", she said with a smile that she hoped seemed warm, rather than piteous. "Would you like a hand getting up?"

He nodded again and dropped his gaze, as his head drooped and his body sagged. He seemed as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and all at once he was not the murderous sociopath she sometimes worried he might be, but simply a man.

A man who had been through much; a man on whom life had taken its toll.

As she placed her arm under his shoulder and she took all of his weight onto hers, he closed his eyes, wrapped his fingers as a fist into her dress and clenched his jaw. It was as though he knew that if he opened his mouth even a fraction, he would allow the escape of a whimper but he was a proud gatekeeper.

He climbed back under the sheets and gave her a single, grateful nod. Then, just as quickly, the Death Eater in him returned and bore its teeth.

"Now leave."

:

 **S.**

The girl was being kind to him. In spite of all evidence to the contrary, she seemed to think he was worth caring for. He could do without her constant chatter, and relentless animation, but otherwise she wasn't the worst ally. For one thing, most of the time, she left him alone. She would do better to leave him indefinitely, but she kept returning, no matter how viciously he pushed her away. Even when he offended her, he thought he saw warmth in her eyes.

 _She's exasperating._

She didn't return for the rest of the day, or even the next morning. Instead of personally delivering the tray of food to his bedside, she levitated it up the stairs and into his room. He felt a stab of guilt as he wondered if he had upset her. However the guilt quickly subsided when he filled up on toast and marmalade - a marginally less offensive offering than the day before - and so he chalked it up to hunger.

 _Yes, that's more likely._

Much weighed on his conscience - he had a lot to feel guilty for - but upsetting Granger would not be one of them. Even if she did continue to go out of her way to care for him. She would save them both a lot of hassle if she just let him starve to death. Not that he wanted to die.

 _Not anymore, anyway._

The door swung open and he opened his mouth, prepared to tell her to where she could stick her pathetic little tray, but nobody stood in the doorway. Instead, in came a book, floating as though weightless through the air and landed on the bedside table.

 _Nice try. I won't read it._

He lay on his side and closed his eyes. But every time he did he was back in that damn shack, begging for his life, without daring to actually beg. 'Let me find the boy', he'd said. He knew - they both knew - what that meant... 'Let me go. Please, let me leave'. As he stared at the subtle pattern in the blue wallpaper that threatened to drive him mad, he realised that this tiny room had become a prison of his own making.

 _It doesn't have to be a prison,_ the voice like Lucius' said.

Severus rolled his eyes and with a shock, he let out a soft chuckle. He was arguing with himself. He was teetering on the edge of sanity, he could feel it. He needed to distract himself, and felt the call of the book that sat beside him - a school textbook - not worth a second look, and yet. What was the alternative? Internal conversations with dead men?

 _Is that what this is Lucius? Are you dead? You've not left me, have you, friend?_

Granger eventually showed her face in the room later that evening. He knew it was the evening because the crack in the curtains was black. Its changing colour was the only indication of the passing of time. Otherwise he might think that he had stagnated or that time had stopped altogether; the world ended. The girl wore plaid pyjamas and smelled of spearmint toothpaste.

"I'm going to bed", she said. "Do you need anything?"

 _I need the bathroom. I can piss in a glass, but sooner or later I'm going to need to take a -_

He shook his head. He didn't want to hear his pathetic voice again. She flicked the switch and he took his solace in the darkness. He was safe now. There was comfort and familiarity in the shadows.

 _It's where I belong._

:

 **H.**

Hermione woke in the middle of the night with a full bladder. She always woke in the small hours after a couple of glasses of wine, and she'd really needed them tonight. She crept along the landing in the dark, a practice left over from childhood, when the monsters she feared had claws, not horcruxes. She discretely used the bathroom and cringed as the toilet flushed and waited for it to abate. A sound like static buzzed around in the silence and Hermione felt all of the hairs on her arms stand to attention; then followed the prickle on the back of her neck. The sound was coming from downstairs.

Unsure what she would find, Hermione brandished her wand in front of her as she worked her way silently down the stairs, carefully moving around the parts of the floorboards that creaked underfoot. She peered around the doorframe into the living room. Her attention was drawn immediately to the white noise that spluttered on the television. She felt her fingers tremble as her eyes fell upon her father's armchair, or rather, the dark figure that rested on it. Then quickly followed a wash of relief as she realised that the dark figure was an invited, albeit unwelcome guest.

She turned around, more than content to leave him where he sat without a word, but no sooner had she lifted her foot to alight the stairs, his voice stirred into the room and wrapped itself around her bones. The voice was soft, but it caught on every syllable, like wrinkled, black velvet.

"You're not going to join me?"

 _I think I'd rather crawl back into bed and have a nightmare. Although..._

"Fine", she said, and she was pleased that though her hands still shook, her voice did not.

"Tell me you have something stiff for me to drink?"

"Whisky?" she offered.

"Firewhisky?"

"No, sorry."

"Good", he said, with a look of disgust he usually reserved for unpleasant conversations with his teenage students. "Can't stand the stuff."

He sat back in the chair and groaned as he rearranged his position.

"It's Scotch", she said. "Glenmorangie..."

"I haven't a clue what that means".

"Nor do I. But it's supposed to be good."

"Frankly, I would drink piss right now if it would get me tanked."

Hermione summoned the half-empty bottle and two glasses from the liquor cabinet.

"You're going to partake?"

His eyebrows raised, as though with approval and Hermione felt a small tingle of satisfaction. He hadn't expected it.

 _There is much you don't know about me, Professor._

"After you", he said, raising his glass and nodding to her.

"Shall we toast?" she asked, meeting his eyes for the first time.

"Sure. What would you like to toast to?" he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "To the unknown fate of the wizarding world? Or to the misfortune of being stuck here together?"

"How about to being alive?" she suggested. "Or perhaps we should toast to not being killed by a bloody snake?"

She locked her eyes with his, tilting her head and sticking out her chin.

"Unless you'd like to toast to me... for not letting you die?"

"To not being killed by a bloody snake!" he cheered facetiously, and downed his two fingers.

:

 **S.**

 _Not bad. More!_ he thought, as he poured himself a second glass, and again as he poured out a third.

Granger joined him. Never one to be outshone, she kept up with him until they had finished the bottle. He jutted his head towards the liquor cabinet.

"Tell me there's more."

She snapped her wrist and with a flick of her wand, two more bottles moved from the shelves and landed before him on the coffee table.

 _Excellent._

About halfway through the second bottle, Severus felt himself slip into the gentle embrace of what his father would have referred to as 'tipsy'. He felt himself warming, almost as a physical sensation from the inside, and despite his reservations, he supposed that ignoring the girl was cruel. She had saved him after all.

 _Let's not think too much on that. I've only just paid off one debt._

After another couple of glasses, he would be just about social enough to engage her, he decided. However, she'd warmed quicker than he had.

"Snape", she said.

Her voice came sharp, like a shard of glass. It was the first time that she had not observed formalities when addressing him, and however much he did care to hear his name in her voice, he didn't much prefer being called 'Professor' or 'Sir'. Particularly since he was certain he would no longer be welcome at Hogwarts. Not that it bothered him. In fact, he was rather pleased to be shot of the place.

"Snape", she said again. "What did you..."

She changed tack, re-evaluating her question.

"How are you still alive?" she decided.

He made a steeple with his fingers over his glass.

 _Tell her, but keep it to the point. Need to know basis._

"I already had a blood slowing solution and the snake's antivenom in my system. The rest was a combination of my pigheaded determination not to die, and well... you."

She swallowed and opened her mouth as though to speak, then closed it firmly.

"Now ask me what you really want to know", he said, and raised one eyebrow.

"I want to know what you... I wondered about the..."

 _Of course she does._

"You want to know about the memories I gave to Potter."

"Well... yes."

"It was information that would better prepare him for his fight with The Dark Lord."

 _Enough now, Severus. Say no more._

He sat back in his chair to show her that he had said everything he would on the subject. She straightened her back and emptied her glass.

"You killed Dumbledore", she said.

It wasn't a question. Nor was it an accusation. It was a statement.

"Did I?" he asked.

"Didn't you?"

 _I'm not a killer,_ he thought.

But the words turned to ash and he couldn't bring himself to say them. He hadn't killed Albus per se, but he had done evil to rival it in his time with the Death Eaters.

 _No. Do not dwell._

"Granger... If you believed I murdered the Headmaster, why did you bring me here? Why didn't you leave me to die?"

He cocked his head and she mirrored the movement.

"I thought there might be more to the story", she said.

"There is", he said.

"So... whose side were you on?"

 _She's smart. She's got you pegged._

There was only one answer that was entirely truthful, and for the first time, he dared admit it.

"My own."

:

 **H.**

Snape talked more and more with every glass of whisky he threw back. As her teacher, he'd had a knack for saying much with few words. Similarly, it seemed, he was able to tell you a lot without revealing anything of substance about himself. As such, you might think that you had learned a great deal about him, only to walk away realising that you knew little more than when you began.

However Hermione had a knack of her own, and so with every word, he revealed more about himself; more than he ever intended. Because just as _he_ had an uncanny ability to say a lot, but tell very little, _she_ was able to read into what wasn't said - every pause and every gesture. She read subtext like a book.

As he lay his head back onto the armchair and rubbed his long fingers across his temples, Hermione felt the bristle of something she couldn't pinpoint. It was as though a poignant thought had crossed her mind so quickly that she'd not been able to catch it. Like her subconscious had made a connection that hadn't quite reached her conscious.

"Snape, tell me about your childhood", she said eventually.

He folded his hands in his lap.

"Absolutely not."

"Okay. Tell me about your time at school?"

"Not a chance, Granger."

"... As a Death Eater?"

She caught the look on his face, a mixture of scorn and humorous disbelief, and spat the whisky from her mouth as she burst into a song of laughter. The corner of his mouth twitched and for a moment she thought he might crack a genuine smile. She dried her chin with the back of her hand and pursed her lips.

"Fine, if you won't tell me something about you, I'll have to tell you something about me", she said, making a play of wrapping a curl around her finger. "Would you like to hear about my _darling boyfriend_ or my _darling best friend_?"

"Spare me", Snape drawled.

Hermione laughed, as she ran the melting ice cubes around her glass.

"Ronald it is then. You strike me as a hopeless romantic."

Snape's eyes shot open and his face blanched.

"I do?"

Her eyes crinkled as her eyebrows fell into an expression of bewilderment.

"Of course not!"

 _But for a second there you thought I'd seen something in you, something you had kept hidden,_ she thought.

 _Could it be? Severus Snape... a romantic? Surely not._

* * *

 **AN:** Rest in peace, my purple prince. You were the worst laptop anyone has ever had. Just awful right to the very end. At least you were consistent.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** I know that Hermione's 'Mublood' scar is an invention of the movie and not the books but I'm treating it as canon for the purposes of this story.

* * *

3\. Sandalwood

 **S.**

Severus clutched his hand to his forehead, hoping that the warmth might abate the pounding behind his eyes. It had been a long time since he'd had so much to drink. In his teens, he would pound back enough to overpower a man twice his size, but in his twenties and thirties he'd had to be far more sensible. He found it much harder to occlude when he was drunk; he could still do it, of course - he was a master Occlumens - but he had to work harder, and so he felt worse for it the morning after.

He hadn't needed to occlude last night, but perhaps he should have. His head split as though he'd been at it for hours. He rubbed his eyes, avoiding the blinding, morning light from behind the curtains. He could hardly make sense of the blurred figures in front of him. As his eyes adjusted, his gaze fell upon Granger, who sat upright on the sofa, grinning at him. He looked down at his lap and frowned at the sight of his legs, covered with a wool blanket.

"Good morning", she said, brightly.

"Is it?" he asked, massaging his temples with two fingers.

"Did you sleep okay?"

 _I feel rotten. How is she so cheerful?_

"Do you think you could stomach breakfast?" she asked.

"Not likely."

"Okay", she said, "well, let me know when you're ready."

He placed his hands on the arms of the chair and tried to pull himself out of the chair. He felt his arms shake and give way.

"Or there're leftovers in the fridge if you want to help yourself."

 _God, she's like a one night stand that overstays their welcome. Just leave me alone._

"Okay, great", he said, picking the skin in the corner of his thumb.

"I'm going to get dressed. Oh, and there's shampoo and body wash under the sink", she said, with a quick smile and a slight nod.

 _Subtle. Do I smell that bad?_

He waited for her to leave and he slumped back into his chair.

 _I shouldn't have had so much to drink. Everything aches. Oh shit, I really do stink._

Snape pulled his wand from deep inside his pocket and cast a quick 'Scourgify' on himself, then followed it up with a 'Turgeo', but still the smell remained.

"Are you planning on staying there all day?" Hermione asked, popping her head around the door.

 _Do you ever bloody leave?_

"No", he said with his typical sour tone; it seemed to be losing its effect as she didn't react.

She perched on the arm of the sofa and crossed her legs.

"Well, I just wondered what your plans were. I have someone coming round in an hour."

All of the limited colour drained from Snape's face. She quizzed him with her eyes, as he straightened in his chair and his breath hitched. It took all of his energy to surge forward so that he could show her he was serious.

"Who is coming here?" he said, with all the composure he could summon.

"Don't worry. It's just a friend..."

"Nobody can know I'm here, Granger. Do you not understand that?"

His words were quick and sharp.

"What the hell were you thinking? I will be killed if anyone finds out I'm here. Is that what you want? Who is it? Potter? Weasley?"

 _And now my chest hurts. Is she actually trying to kill me? A curse would be faster._

She studied him with a straight face and moved towards him. He wondered what she saw.

"Hey, don't worry. You're not in any danger", she said, with a furrowed expression that revealed her concern as she crouched next to him. "It's nobody from the wizarding world."

 _Don't look at me like that._

"She's a girl I grew up with; a muggle. I just asked her to pick us up some things from the supermarket. She doesn't know who you are or even _what_ we are. We're safe."

His stiff body relaxed, but still his heart hammered in his chest.

"Does she know that you have _someone_ here with you?"

Granger's teeth grazed her lower lip and she wrinkled her nose.

"Yes. But I, er... I told her you were shy."

He covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smirk.

"I assumed you'd want to stay upstairs", she said.

"About that..."

She cocked her head.

"You can't get up?"

"I can", he said through gritted teeth. "But it..."

 _You're pathetic._

"... It hurts."

"How did you get down here in the first place?" she asked.

"With great difficulty."

:

 **H.**

Hermione urged Snape into the bathroom as gentle encouragement to wash. He'd obviously tried to clean himself off, but the cleaning spells only served to remove the stains; it didn't improve his hygiene. He undressed and she sat on the toilet seat with her back to him. He left his boxers on, for which she was grateful. She had seen more than enough of the professor, she didn't need to see _that_ part of him.

Neither said a word; the air was thick with their discomfort. She watched the rise and fall of his chest quicken and felt her fingers tingle as she helped him into the bathtub. He kept his arms tight at his side. Hermione took in the sight of the purple bruises and thick cuts on his throat that spread down his neck. Now that he was not buttoned up to his larynx, she saw that the damage spanned his collarbones and chest too. Her curious gaze swept down his torso, and she caught herself in time. She didn't dare look back at his face as she snatched the shower curtain across the bath.

"Lemmeknowwhenyoudone", she said, without so much as a breath, and with a heavy sigh of relief, she snapped the door closed behind her.

:

 **S.**

 _She looked at you,_ said the voice like Lucius'.

 _What does it matter if she looked at me? I'm pathetic. Look at the state of me._

Severus sank into the bath, closed his eyes and let his head fall beneath the water. He ran his hands through his hair and a clump came free in his hand.

 _I'm a mess._

He took a sponge from the side of the tub and poured on the body wash to a small peak. He ran it across his chest; it was almost concave with lack of muscle, and followed his hair down to his belly. Then he moved it to his shoulder and winced as he lifted his arm to scrub his pits. He ran the sponge down to his forearm and studied the Dark Mark.

 _It's fading._

 _It's fading?!_

The brand on his arm did not pulse as it had before. It was still very much visible, but it was not inky black - it was a dull grey, thicker and less crisp - like a long healed tattoo.

 _He is weakened... or he's..._

It wasn't possible.

 _Have they won? Has Potter actually done it?_

"Granger!"

She slammed into the bathroom as though she'd been lurking outside. And he felt shame's cold snap at his stomach. He thrust his arm out of the tub and she took it in her hands, staring at the mark, tracing the snake with her middle finger.

"Does it always look like this?" she asked.

"You've never seen one?"

 _When would she have seen one, you dolt?_

 _Shut up, Lucius._

"No", he said, and he cracked a smile, "it doesn't."

:

 **H.**

 _He smiled._

"So he's dead?" she asked.

"It faded a little each time a Horcrux was destroyed. It also looked like this when he disappeared eighteen years ago."

"Then we can go back!" she said.

 _It's over._

"Maybe..."

Snape's mouth closed and he was quiet.

"Snape?"

"Mmm", he said, but he didn't meet her eyes, staring at the bathroom tile.

"What's wrong?"

He snapped back to attention and scowled.

"Well... I'm in my altogether and you're just standing there", he said, coldly. "Help me out, or piss off."

 _Arsehole._

"Fine! Here", she said, extending her arm so that he could take it and she pulled him out of the tub. She took a towel from the rail and bundled it into his arms. He narrowed his eyebrows and jutted his chin towards the door.

"You're welcome", she said, allowing her frustration to seep through her words, and she slammed the door behind her.

 _Ugh! He's infuriating. Just when you think you're getting somewhere..._

Hermione stepped into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Voldemort was defeated, she knew it. If Snape's mark had faded because they had destroyed the snake then he was all but finished. If it faded because he had She could get back to Ron and Harry.

 _God knows what they think happened to me. What if they think I'm dead?_

A pounding at the front door drew Hermione's attention downstairs.

 _She's early. Really early. That's not like her._

Hermione moved out of the bedroom and stepped onto the landing. As she moved past the bathroom, she was tugged backwards and pulled inside. She parted her lips, ready to shout out her disapproval, but Snape placed his hand across her mouth. She felt his breath in her ear before he spoke.

"It's not your friend", he said; his voice leaked his fear. "There are three of them - wizards."

Her fingers twitched as though to tremble, threatening to drop her wand. He moved his hand from her mouth and held his arm protectively in front of her, as the latch of the front door unlocked, and it opened. She tightened her grip on her wand, determined not to be frightened into inaction, as Snape cast 'Muffliato' followed by an invisibility charm. She moved to lock the door, but Snape took her hand away, holding it tight in his and shook his head.

"If they try the door and it is locked", he whispered, "they will know we are in here. Don't be thick."

"Sorry".

 _I let my guard down. I thought it was over. It's fine. It's over._

She repeated it in her mind, as a mantra of comfort.

 _It's over. It's over. It's fine. It's over._

Severus stood in front of her, shielding her from the intruders. His trousers hung, unfastened around his hips and his half-buttoned shirt looked as though it had been hastily thrown across his back. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and there was a silvery pink scar on the inside of his right forearm. Her chest ached at its familiarity.

 _Is that...? It can't be._

She made to ask her question but he held a finger in front of his lips, demanding her silence, in spite of the Muffliato charm, as footfall approached on the stairs. Whether or not they meant to do them harm, neither knew. Snape met her eyes, and they softened. Her heart rattled and she was grateful that her ribs caged it. She could hear its thumping cry.

 _Can he hear it too?_

Snape dropped his hand and ran his fingers across the back of her wrist. She didn't realise that he meant it as a gesture of comfort until he gave a small smile, with pressed lips, and then mouthed. 'It's okay.'

And he was right, it _was_ okay, because then the wizards began to call out. Hermione's heart burst free of its cage as she recognised the voices.

"It's Ron", she said, excitedly and split the silence. "It's fine, it's Ron!"

"No. You can't be sure", he said, his eyes wide. "Don't risk it!"

"That's Ron", Hermione said again. "I'd know his voice anywhere."

A second voice rose up the stairs.

"Hermione? Are you here?" it yelled, frantically.

"That's Percy", she said. "We're safe. Come on."

Snape's body stiffened and he held his hand flat against the door.

"No! Listen to me", he hissed. "This is what Death Eaters do. We lure you out of hiding. By the time you realise that the person you are looking at is not your loved one, it is too late. Please, do not risk it!"

"Hermione?!" Ron shouted, and his voice trembled. "Where the bloody hell are you?"

 _I'm here! I'm up here!_

"She's obviously not here, Ron", came Bill's voice in response.

"I need to let them know I'm okay", Hermione urged. "Please."

Snape dropped his head into his hand and rubbed his face. She moved closer to the door and he stepped into the way so that his back was flat against the door. He met her eyes, and she saw that he was terrified.

"I am _begging you",_ he said. "Do not go out there."

"Come on, Ron", Percy said. "Let's check The Burrow again."

"Snape. Please? Let me go to them."

He raised his hands in the air and stepped away from the door, and as he sat on the edge of the bath his whole body drooped. He was defeated. She had her fist tight around the handle, but her hand did not move.

 _What if he's right? What if it's a trap? Even if it's not, he's not ready to go back into the open. Look at him. He needs you._

And then comprehension drew on Hermione and her whole body responded with an ache of sadness. If The Dark Lord had won, he was a marked man. And if Harry had won, he faced a lifetime in Azkaban.

 _There is no world for Snape outside these walls_ _. Victory or defeat. He loses._

Hermione dropped her hand and sat beside Snape. She rested her elbows on her knees and covered her face.

"Fuck's sake", she whispered.

:

 **S.**

 _Why did she do that?_

Severus stared at the girl and tried to make sense of what she had done. He could simply have asked her, he knew, but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

 _She pities you._

They waited in silence for the Weasleys to leave and Severus let out a breath of relief when the door slammed behind them. Granger immediately stood to her feet and exited the bathroom without saying a word. He was grateful. After all, what would he say?

He stood before the sink and opened the cabinet above in search of a razor. He closed the mirrored doors and stared at himself in the glass, still surprised by the way the skin beside his eyes crinkled and how the lines furrowed into his brow. He wasn't all that old - only thirty-eight - yet somehow he felt as though he'd lived a lifetime.

The prickle of black hairs across his chin felt out of place. He was usually such a stickler for presentation, but here in Granger's home, there was hardly need to look smart. He quite liked the change in his face. It helped to distinguish between before and after - then and now - and he was desperate for the distinction. He put the razor back into its pot and closed the cabinet with a satisfying click.

It was amazing what a bath could do. All of his muscles had relaxed and he found it much easier to move around. He was still weak, and the pain remained to remind him what his body had been through over the last few months, but he felt more able - almost liberated. As he stepped out of the bathroom, he saw a flicker of blue light in the corner of his eye and as he turned to inspect it, a silver otter burst from Granger's room and scampered by him.

 _No?! She wouldn't._

He pushed opened the door to her bedroom without knocking and stared at the back of her head.

"Tell me you fucking didn't?" he said.

She didn't turn to look at him.

"A Patronus!? Are you serious?"

"What of it?" she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Who did you send it to?"

"It's none of your business!"

He stalked into the room and turned her to face him; he tried not to be rough, tried to stay calm, but his angry hands snatched at her shoulder.

"It absolutely _is_ my business. Who did you send it to? Weasley?"

She stared at the floor and gave a half shrug.

 _Calm down. Take a breath. Don't frighten her._

"Granger, look at me, please. This is serious. Who did you send it to? What did you say?"

She raised her head slowly and met his gaze with defiance.

"I let my boyfriend know I was safe, okay? Is that so awful?"

 _Oh God. OH MY GOD. I'm dead._

"Yes", he said, with a deep, calming breath. "Yes, it's awful. It could be intercepted."

"They wouldn't be here if the battle wasn't over, would they? They would still be there fighting. And you said it yourself, he's gone. Jesus, you're so paranoid!"

He stood up to full height, towering over her.

"It's not paranoia, it's sense! I'm trying to keep myself... _us both_... alive! And you have just undone it all! Even if the Dark Lord is dead, which is hardly likely given that the bastard can't die."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took another deep breath through his nose, as she sat on the edge of her bed.

"We destroyed the Horcruxes", she said. "Only the snake was left."

 _They found the diadem? No, that's not the point!_

"Did you tell them I was here?"

"What?" she asked.

 _Don't feign ignorance, it doesn't suit you._

"Did you tell Weasley that you were with me?" he said, articulating every word, as though speaking to someone very young or very stupid, unsure which afflicted her most - youth or stupidity. "Did you tell your little boyfriend that I was alive?"

"I trust Ron with my life. He won't tell anybody."

 _I'm a dead man._

"Fuck!" he spat. "How could you?! Fuck you! Fuck!"

"Fuck _you_!" she retorted, squaring her shoulders and raising her finger in irritation. "I brought you here to keep you safe and all you've done is complain. All you've been is miserable! He was worried about me. I'm sorry if you can't understand that since I'm sure nobody cares whether you live or die, but that-"

 _Wow. Well then._

Her hand flew to her mouth, which fell agape and her eyes flew open, wild and terrified.

"I'm so sorry", she said. "I didn't mean... Shit, I'm sorry."

 _Is she right? Is anyone even looking for me?_

"Don't be", he said, and he did not need to force his composure for he was stock-still. "You're right. Perhaps nobody cares if I live, but there are plenty of people who want to see me dead. Such is the life I have lived."

"Snape... I didn't mean it like that."

"You did", he said. "You meant it exactly like that. Thank you."

 _Thank you for freeing me of the ridiculous notion that, against all sense, you actually cared for me._

:

 **H.**

"Snape, where are you going? Stop!"

He moved swiftly into the guest bedroom and shut the door behind him. She reached for the door handle and snatched her hand away with a jolt as it burned her to touch.

"Very nice", she said. "Go on and sulk. I'll be downstairs when you're ready."

He didn't take the bait.

 _It would have worked with Ron._

Ron's terrier Patronus bounded into the living room an hour or so later. His voice spoke, excited and relieved that she was safe and well, but obviously irritated that she had ducked out on them without word. She shot back her silver otter with an apology, flopped miserably onto the sofa and pulled the blanket over her legs. She switched on the television and mindlessly watched a movie. It was hard to follow the story given that she had started it part way through and her mind was elsewhere. Her mind was with him. She couldn't shake the look on his face - behind the wall of his anger at her betrayal, there was grief caused by her words.

 _And what did he mean? 'Thank you' for what?_

She allowed her mind to wander, and found herself deep in thoughts of him; the vulnerable and soft moments. His arm flung before her chest in protection. The warmth of his breath in her ear. Running her fingers across his mark, surprised by how comfortable it felt to touch him. The buzz of electricity across her skin, as his hand touched her wrist. How he smiled at her. _Him_. Damp and dishevelled, smelling like sandalwood and citrus; his wet hair, lank across his shoulders, softening the cotton of his white shirt so that his fair skin was just visible beneath.

 _No. You can't think about him like that._

Hermione waited up on the sofa for Snape to reappear, but he stayed in his room for the rest of the evening. Ron's terrier returned back and forth with news of the battle, and Hermione was pleased to know that everything had gone according to plan; a plan she didn't even know she played a part in. But it was over, Voldemort was dead.

 _Bellatrix is dead._

She rolled up the sleeve of her cable knit jumper and ran her fingers across the word etched into her skin as a permanent reminder of who she was.

 _Mudblood._

She opened her eyes wide, taking a deep breath, and warded off the panic that rose in her chest whenever she thought about Bellatrix. If she closed her eyes for even a second when she felt this way, she would find herself back at Malfoy Manor, bloodied and screaming on the cold, marble floor.

She stared into the bright light of the living room, grateful to be grounded and safe, here in her childhood home. Grateful too that there was a man right upstairs who would put himself between her and anyone who might do her harm. Grateful to have seen a different side to Severus Snape, even if it only came in snapshots and echoes. She was grateful that he existed at all, because contrary to what she had said, somebody _did_ care whether he lived or died. Somebody cared very much, in fact.

As she traced the shapes that formed her scar, she thought about Severus and the scar he held secretly on the inside of his own arm; the one he kept tight to his chest. Not the one that he had chosen to take as proof of his loyalty, but the one he'd had no choice in. She couldn't be certain of course, but she thought that she had seen letters among the carnage; a mirror of her own shameful, little souvenir from a run in with a Death Eater. Was his courtesy of her too? Or perhaps The Dark Lord himself? And what did it say? What was his crime?

 _I, Hermione Granger, am I Mudblood._ _But who is he?_


	4. Chapter 4

4\. Shithead

 **H.**

Hermione awoke on the sofa, stiff and confused. She stared at the clock on the mantelpiece, that read twenty past eight. She pulled open the curtains and discerned that from position of the sun in the sky that it had to be morning, which meant that she'd slept for fourteen hours. She showered off the night before and took a little more care than usual when deciding what to wear. She pulled on her favourite pair of jeans and a white lace shirt that both Ron and Harry had complimented her on before. For Harry to take notice, it must have been something special. Ron would have fawned over her in a boiler suit.

She pulled half of her hair up into a ponytail, leaving the lower layer to cascade down her back. She secured the pony into an elastic and pulled it tight. It had been years, literally years, since she had done something different with her hair. It had been the night of the Yule Ball. She'd wrestled her curls for hours before Parvati told her about a charm that would soften her hair and make it more manageable. She considered doing the charm now, but she didn't want to look as though she had made an effort.

 _This is ridiculous,_ she told herself, and walked away from the mirror, shaking her hair so that it looked a little less put together. _Snap out of it._

She knocked on Severus' door but he did not answer. She couldn't be sure if he was still not talking to her or he was sleeping off the inevitable hangover that came from emptying her father's liquor cabinet in the night.

 _Did he think I wouldn't notice?_

She tried not to think about her father, because the thoughts that accompanied them frightened her. The battle was won, so she could return to them and bring them home.

 _What if they're happy where they are? What if I can't reverse the memory charm? What if they never remember who I - Nope! We're not doing this._

She knocked again on the door, louder than before. A groaning from inside the room told her that he was, at least, alive, although he sounded much aggrieved by the fact.

"Piss off", he grumbled.

 _Do you ever say anything else, you miserable bastard?_

She held her thoughts captive.

 _Nope. Be nice. He has every right to be angry with you._

Hermione hated it when she knew that someone was unhappy with her. She knew, rationally, that someone else's opinion of you was out of your control, but Hermione hated to be without control. She had carefully crafted her life so that everything was within her limits. She didn't like to think about how this probably stemmed from the absolute chaos of her life. She dominated Harry and Ron; her parents too. She had sent them off to Australia on the off-chance that her parents' secret-kept house in the middle of a muggle dwelling filled with thousands of people, was not entirely safe from Death Eaters. She knew it was a problem, but being aware of your flaws, and getting a handle on them, are two very different things.

"Let me in", she said, softly, "please? I just want to talk to you".

"I'm not stopping you", he said.

Hermione sat with her back against Severus' door and hitched her knees up, wrapping her arms around them in self-soothing comfort.

"I'm sorry", she said.

His mumbled groan of a reply was not the outright rejection of her apology that she had anticipated.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and the concern in her voice was evident.

"Yes", he said. "Fine. Hungover."

"Do you need a glass of water?"

Snape scoffed.

"I've been drunk many times before, Granger, I know to stay hydrated."

She straightened her back and rested her head on the door.

"Right. Sorry."

:

 **S.**

 _Shit, I should have thought of that._

"Aguamenti", he whispered and filled the glass on the bedside table.

"I really am sorry", she said, and she sounded as though she was sincere. "I for one am glad that you're okay..."

 _Pah. Right. Sure._

"I'm sorry about sending the patronus too", she said. "I just wanted to make sure that they knew I was okay. When we were on the run, Ron left for a while and I spent every minute of every day terrified that something had happened to him. I didn't want him to feel the same way... do you understand?"

 _Of course I understand. I'm not incapable of empathy._

"Yes", he muttered. "I do."

"But you're still angry?"

"What do you care if I am angry with you."

It was her turn to scoff then.

"Because you're here and I have to share space with you and it won't surprise you to know that I don't like to live in silence."

"You're right that's not a surprise."

"It's a comfort thing. I'm not crazy or anything, I swear, I just... I'm frightened of it."

Her candor surprised him, and he moved towards the door. He considered opening it, allowing her to enter, but he was not quite ready. Instead he sat with his back to the wall beside the door and ran his hands across the carpet, picking at the fibers.

"Frightened of what?"

"Of silence."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because when it's quiet, I'm alone with my thoughts."

He turned his head to look at the door, and imagined that he saw her face.

"Why?" he asked again. "Why are you afraid to be alone with your thoughts?"

"Because my thoughts quickly turn to memories..."

 _Tell me about it._

"What memory in particular is bothering you?"

She took a breath, so deep and so sharp that he heard it from behind the door.

"Bellatrix... when she tortured me at the Malfoys -"

He snapped upright, grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. As she lost her balance, leaning on the frame as she was, he caught her and pushed her steady with long fingers.

"She did what?!"

"You didn't know?" she asked.

Severus shook his head.

"What did she do to you?"

Hermione hiked her jumper over her head and pulled the straps of her shirt down from her collarbone. Cuts, scars, burns, spell damage...

 _I've seen worse. I've had worse._

... Bite marks.

 _She bit her!? She's deranged._

Then Hermione looked away and gently extended her hand, palm up, and it took him a moment to realise what she was showing him. A scar; not just any scar, on the inside of her arm. He covered his lips with his hand, and his mouth fell lightly agape, as he ran his thumb across its length. She didn't recoil as he had expected, instead she closed her eyes, and he thought he saw the flutter of a smile in the corner of her mouth that did not cross her lips.

:

 **H.**

"I had no idea", he said; his voice lighter than ever she'd heard it. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

 _Hermione?_

Snape rubbed his thumb across the letters and her skin bristled under his coarse touch. Instead of shrinking from it, she found its comfort. It was as though he thought he could erase them. If only he could.

"If I had known..." he said, but his words trailed off to silence.

 _If you had known... what? What would you have done?_

Eventually he asked, "and it is this that affects you?"

"Yes, but only sometimes."

"When did it happen?"

His voice was steady again and had returned to its typical cadence.

"I assume you know that we broke into Gringotts..." she said.

He stifled a smile.

"Yes. I must admit, I'm impressed you pulled that off."

"Thank you".

She beamed; proud to have pleased her teacher.

 _Don't be ridiculous,_ she thought, and the smile fell from her face.

"Well, just before we broke into the Lestranges' vault, Snatchers caught us and delivered us the Malfoys. We had The Sword of Gryffindor, which was supposed to be -"

Snape lifted his head and dropped it backwards; with a thud it hit the door. As it did, he bit his lip, his gritted teeth catching his flesh so hard that he drew blood. He drew his fingers to the cut, pulled them away and studied them.

"Shit! Are you okay?" she asked, pulling herself to her knees.

He batted her hand away.

"The sword!" he said. "You only had the sword because I left it for Potter to find."

 _I know. Ron told me._

"I'm sorry", he said. "It was a stupid idea."

"It's not your fault", she said, and placed her hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off. "We all did what we thought was best."

His face was void of all colour. Not just sallow, but deathly white.

"I should have known better. You could have died", he said. "No, I'm certain. She would have killed you. She wouldn't have thought twice about it."

"But I didn't."

"'But you..." his mouth twitched at its edges. "You see, if you'd told me that she'd cursed Potter, I'd be much less aggrieved."

He raised his eyebrows and smirked at her. It wasn't cruel, it was an acknowledgement of their history.

"He couldn't have handled it", she said playfully.

He smiled, but as his eyebrows furrowed, she knew that their moment in the light had been overcast by the shadow of whatever had crossed his mind.

"What did the Malfoys do?" he asked.

"Nothing! They left me alone with her!"

"Is that all?"

She quizzed him with her expression, "what do you mean?"

"Did they hurt you? Lucius... or Narcissa? She didn't...?"

 _Does it make a difference?_

"No", she said. "That was all Bellatrix."

:

 **S.**

 _If Bella's not dead, I'll fucking kill her,_ he thought.

Severus unclenched his fists as he began to think of creative ways he could commit the act.

 _Narcissa will get over it. She has no love for her sister. Unless... is she still alive? Is Lucius? Is Draco?_

"He's dead."

Snape looked up.

 _Not Draco?_

"Who is dead?"

"Voldemort, he's dead. Harry killed him. It's over."

 _No. It's not possible._

"From what I understand, Harry died or something, but apparently Dumbledore had figured out a way to keep him alive."

"It worked?"

Granger's eyes lit up.

"I knew it! It all makes sense! You knew. It was _your_ plan; yours and Dumbledore's. Ron said that it was the memories you gave to Harry that gifted them the victory, and if you gave us the sword, then you knew! You were on our side all along."

"I suppose", he said stiffly. "What else did Weasley tell you of the memories?"

"Not much. I don't think he bothered to ask Harry about them."

 _He didn't spill all of my secrets then? Good. I won't have to write his name under Bella's on my list._

"I'm right, aren't I?" she asked, as though it was paramount that she knew so that she could keep score.

He wouldn't put it past her to keep a record of the times she was correct.

 _There was probably little else to do, stuck in a forest with those fuckwits._

"Yes, y0u're correct. I'm glad that at least part of Albus' ridiculous plan worked out."

She narrowed her eyes.

"The shack? Was that another part of the plan?"

 _She's too smart for her own good. Tell her only what she needs to know. Tell her less than she needs to know. She'll bloody well figure it out anyway._

"Yes. Dumbledore knew The Dark Lord would kill me eventually. He knew he'd figure out that I was the master of the Elder Wand, and somehow he knew he'd use the snake to do it. Don't ask me how he knew it. What Dumbledore knew about The Dark Lord and how he knew it, has always been a mystery to me. The phoenix was supposed to heal me and take me somewhere only Dumbledore knew about."

"But the bird didn't come?"

"No. But you did."

She grinned.

"You're welcome for that, by the way."

 _Yes. I'm sorry. You're right. Hermione Granger - 1, Severus Snape - 0._

"Thank you," Snape said. "I should have said it sooner. Thank you for getting me out alive. And for bringing me here. You didn't have to do that."

 _Ask her._

Her eyebrows drew together as though he was speaking a foreign language but she nodded.

"Well... You're welcome."

 _Ask her!_

"Granger, do you know what became of the Malfoys?"

"They deserted."

 _Narcissa. She would never? Unless... She had no reason to stay?_

"They handed themselves into the ministry."

"They're alive?"

"Yes. Mr and Mrs Malfoy agreed to a short term in Azkaban, just a few years. I have no idea how they wrangled their way out of a life sentence..."

 _Lucius, you slippery bastard!_

"And Draco?"

"Just a few months."

Severus held his hand to his chest and pressed tight, to still his beating heart.

 _Thank God._

"Right," he said, patting his thighs as he stood up. "I should go to bed."

"It's nine in the morning."

"I was up all night."

"Why?" she asked.

"You are not the only one who does not like to be alone with their memories."

:

 **H.**

Hermione snapped closed the book that she was pretending to read and threw it onto the coffee table.

"I'm bored", she said.

"My father told me that only boring people get bored."

She pulled a face.

"He sounds delightful."

"Oh, he was", Snape said a sarcastic grimace.

"I'm serious. I'm bored. I've read all my books... twice. You're the one who wants to stay here even though we know it's safe out there."

Snape's face became serious.

"I told you, I don't have anywhere else to go. Believe me, I wouldn't trespass upon your hospitality if I had-"

She raised her hands.

"I was joking! It's fine."

 _Although, you could turn yourself in to the authorities._

"You can stay here as long as you need", she said. "But since I am here because of you, I'm going to need you to entertain me."

"Would you like the monkey to dance... or to sing?" he asked, closing his book onto his lap.

His mouth split into a grin and Hermione allowed herself to laugh with him.

Last night had been something of a turning point. They were getting along. With anyone else she might even imagine that they were forging a friendship from the fire. Hermione knew that according to some muggle scientists, there were infinite alternate universes, but it was fundamentally impossible that in even a single one, Hermione Granger and Severus Snape were friends.

"I want to play cards", she said, pulling a deck from her bag.

"What games do you know?"

"Fish..."

Snape rolled his eyes, but without the contempt that usually accompanied the gesture.

"I'm not playing Fish. We're not children."

 _I'm glad you think so._

"Do you know how to play Shithead?"

"What did you just call me?"

Snape shook his head and let out a low chuckle.

"'Shithead' is the name of the game."

He pushed his hair behind his shoulder and took the deck of cards.

"Come on, I'll teach you."

:

 **S.**

Severus was surprised to find that he rather enjoyed himself. He taught her the few games he knew, and wished that he could be at home with his library so he could pull out a book on the subject. He was bound to have one. But the thought of actually going home was too much for him. There was nothing of comfort in Spinners End. He had lived an unhappy childhood in that home, and continued to have a miserable adulthood in it too. As much as he hated to admit it, he liked being where he was.

 _Oh God, what does it say about me if I'm happier here with Granger than I would be in my own home?_

Granger made dinner - a chicken pasta dish. He was used to the offerings of highly-skilled house elves, not hardly-capable teenagers. That said, it was edible, and it washed down nicely with a couple of glasses of white wine. He'd never liked the stuff, but Granger had insisted. He'd been pleasantly surprised.

After dinner, Granger came to him with another way to alleviate their boredom. He had not realised just how bored he was until she suggested it.

"Teach me occlumency", she said.

 _Oh this should be fun._

"Really? You won't like it."

She nodded, "I want to learn."

 _Excellent. I love taking a joyride into someone else's consciousness. You're on._

He shrugged.

"Alright then. Close your mind."

"What the hell does that mean?" she asked.

"Just focus on keeping me out. I will attempt to enter your thoughts. You will block me. Do you understand?"

She nodded again.

"You're ready?"

"Yes."

 _Oh no, you're not._

Snape entered her thoughts in an instant. If she was fighting him, he could hardly notice. He navigated around her pleasant memories with ease. A lot of them pertained to Weasley and Potter. Her affection for the redhead blossomed and he felt his stomach turn.

 _Ugh. Young love._

"You have to take control. You need discipline", he said.

He moved around and found memories of her parents. They were gentle, happy memories; the kind of memories that young Severus would have killed to make with _his_ parents. As it was, his parents fought and argued, or went long stretches without speaking to each other. He acted as a messenger between them. And those were the kinder memories.

 _Do not dwell._

"Discipline your mind, Granger."

"I'm trying!"

Snape concentrated and came across a flash of sadness. Its bluish hue sullied the picture. She was in a party dress, crying at the bottom of a Hogwarts staircase. Her first broken heart.

 _Been there._

Then he caught sight of himself, brooding and foreboding. Young Granger stared up at him, pleased with herself, almost pink, having answered a question correctly.

The Snape in the memory stared at her as though she was shit on his boot.

'Tell me...', it said, '... are you incapable of restraining yourself, or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?'

 _Jesus, Severus. What is the matter with you? She's a child!_

The young Granger turned to Potter, red-faced with humiliation, as the Snape in the memory swung around with a billow of his cloak.

 _Pretentious! You look ridiculous._

'Ignore him, Hermione' Potter said in the memory. 'He's a prick.'

 _Little shit._

 _He has a point,_ said the voice like Lucius'.

"Sorry", Granger said and Snape drew out of her mind.

"Why are _you_ sorry?" he asked.

"What Harry said..."

He threaded his fingers through his hair.

"Quite. However... his assessment was not entirely inaccurate."

Severus couldn't explain why seeing himself in such a way had bothered him so much. McGonagall had told him plenty of times that he needed to soften his approach with the children. She'd warned him that he was a bully. He'd laughed it off, gone back to his rooms and had a stiff drink. Whenever she would bring it up, and she did often, he'd roll his eyes and shrug her off. She didn't know what she was talking about. She hadn't a damn clue what he was dealing with or why he'd become Potions Master in the first place. But she'd been right.

 _She was always bloody right._

"Granger, I shouldn't have... I wasn't-"

She interrupted him with a dismissive wave.

"I don't like it when you call me 'Granger'" she said, and the change of subject caught him off guard.

"What would you prefer to be called?"

She shot him a look of incredulity, then laughed.

"By my name...?" she suggested.

"Right."

"You used it once before!"

"Did I?"

 _I did. It was weird, but not horrible._

"Fine", he said. "I'll call you by your name."

"Can I call you by yours?" she asked, her bright eyes sparkled.

 _Ha!_

"No, you may not."

"Should I call you Professor then... or Sir?"

 _'Sir' sounds good,_ came a greedy voice from deep in the back of his mind, that seemed to have awoken as from a long sleep.

 _Oh good,_ he thought, _you're back. Piss off._

"Just call me 'Snape'."

"Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue", she muttered.

"What? And 'Severus' does?"

She grinned.

"It's not awful. No more stupid than Hermione. You can shorten yours, at least. What would I be... 'Herm'? I'm sure people call you 'Sev'."

"Don't!" he said, a little too sharply. "Don't call me 'Sev'. I ... I don't like it."

She looked at him as though she'd understood something and sat back on the chair.

"Okay", she said with a knowing smile.

 _She's going to be the fucking death of me._

Just then, an excited silver terrier burst into the room and threw itself onto Granger's lap. Weasley's voice spoke into the room.

"Come home, 'Mione", the voice said. "Leave that miserable prick alone and come back to me."

She grimaced at him apologetically.

 _So apparently 'prick' is the choice word to describe me. Excellent._

"I miss you", the voice continued. "Mum's worried sick and there's still so much to do. We've arranged the funeral for Thursday. Can you at least come back for that? Take care."

:

 **H.**

"Funeral?" Snape asked.

"Fred".

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"I really should go", Hermione said, with a rueful smile.

She didn't want to leave him. It was so alien a thing, but she felt affection for him and she didn't like the thought of leaving him alone. As though he'd read her thoughts, and she was sure that he was able to do so, he nodded.

"I'm big enough and ugly enough to look after myself. You should go."

"Right", Hermione said. "You'll be okay? I'll leave you something to eat."

"I can cook, you know? I cook better than you, anyway."

She opened her mouth in mock outrage.

"Firstly... Rude! Secondly... You've let me cook all this time, and you're perfectly able to do it yourself?! You bastard! I thought I was keeping you alive... I thought I was helping you!"

" _Firstly_ ", he said with a smirk. It's been nice to have someone do everything for me. And secondly..."

He fidgeted with his sleeve.

"You _have_ helped. You've helped in ways you can't even imagine."

 _What the hell does that mean?_

"Go now", he said dismissively.

"The funeral isn't for another couple of days", she said.

"I know, but you should go be with them. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

He batted the air with his hand.

"Yes, I'm sure. Go on, piss off."

:

 **S.**

 _God, it's going to be boring around here without her._

Granger stood up excitedly and bustled up the stairs. She returned in a change of clothing. He only noticed because she didn't look as pretty as she had before. She wore a worn, thin sweatshirt, and she'd put all of her hair into a bun at the side of her head.

 _She's dressing down for the occasion? Will women ever cease to dumbfound me?_

He caught his thought; conscious of the fact that for the first time he had referred to her as a woman.

She grabbed her bag from the dining table, swung back towards him, and as he stood to see her off, and he went to shake her hand, she kissed him on the cheek and his hand brushed her stomach. It wasn't really a kiss - her lips came as just a graze on his skin - non-committal and unsure. But it was kind. The sort of touch he'd seldom felt before. It wasn't entirely friendly, but neither was it romantic, or sexual. It did not demand reciprocation. It just _was_.

And it was ...

He rolled his eyes as he finished the thought.

 _... Nice._


	5. Chapter 5

5\. Sympathy

 **S.**

The house was oddly quiet without Granger around to bludgeon the silence with her chaos. After twenty-five long minutes of fiddling about with the blasted remote control, Severus figured out how to change the channel on the television. He flicked through, and was surprised to learn that there were many more than when he was a boy. He came across one that played music with accompanying visual, but what the muggles were calling music was not quite to his taste. Nor was what the muggles seemed to consider fashionable. There was one channel that played only classical music, which was better, if not ideal. The instrument of the hour seemed to be the piano. He would have preferred a cello, but pianos have strings just the same.

Sitting on the edge of the sofa, he leant into the coffee table and set up the deck of cards to play Patience.

 _I'll have to teach this to Granger,_ he thought. _Might keep her quiet for an hour or two._

But truthfully, he'd become somewhat accustomed to her constant chatter, as it helped him to escape the fear that had threatened to become intrusive.

 _It's fine_ , he told himself. _You're fine. You're safe._

Still, Severus could not stop his thoughts from wandering to the Shrieking Shack. He kept seeing the snake lunge towards him. He had thought he was going to die. He had been sure of it. It was vicious. Not a single bite, as he had anticipated, but the damn thing had tried to rip his throat out. He ran his hands through his hair and clutched it into a ball. It was getting long now, soon it would be as long as Lucius'.

 _Maybe I'll wrap it in a pretty little bow, like that pretentious bastard._

Thoughts of Lucius came with a shock of sadness. Azkaban was not a place for the Malfoys. Lucius' last tenure in the prison had all but broken him, and Narcissa had hardly coped in his absence. He thought fondly of Narcissa. They had been close for many years, after all. She was the only person that he was sore to be without. He was fond Lucius too, of course, and Draco at a push, but it was Narcissa he longed to see.

Shoving a frozen pizza into the oven, Snape felt as though he was cheating a little, given that there were plenty of fresh ingredients in the fridge. It just felt so lonely, so pathetic, to cook for one. He had done it for many years, and hated it. He didn't want to be like that anymore.

 _Maybe, when I'm out of here, I'll get back out there and find somebody to cook for._

Dating had been such a disaster the first time around. Trying to find someone to share his life with was difficult given that he was not naturally prone to sharing. Particularly when it came to his space. He liked to be left alone. Which, it would turn out, didn't bode well for romantic attachment. It was why love had always felt so impossible. He had to compromise too much of himself to keep someone else happy. Between Lily, who chose James, and Narcissa who chose Lucius, he didn't have the best track record of keeping women. He could find them no problem. He wasn't conventionally handsome, but women didn't seem to mind too much. He was clean, mostly; able to turn the charm on when required, and he was clever. Women liked him... at first. They just didn't stick around too long.

 _Maybe this time will be different._

Setting the timer on the oven, he moved back towards the living room and recognised the song that played as one of his mother's favourites. It made him miss her. He hadn't thought fondly of his mother in years. She was long dead. So was his father. And good riddance. Severus was the last of the Snapes.

 _And the family tree will die with me,_ he thought.

He shrugged. If he needed companionship, he could always pay for it.

 _Wouldn't be the first time._

Snape settled on the sofa and flicked through the channels again until he settled on a quiz show that had been around since his childhood.

 _Oh shit._

He'd watched it with his father, only to be reprimanded if he didn't know the answers and mocked if he did. The words he had spoken to Hermione as a child rang in his head; he hadn't realised it at the time, but it was the perfect echo of his father. Her memory taunted him, as another memory flashed that did not taunt, but prodded, pulled and ripped right through him.

"Tell me, Son, do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?"

He covered his mouth and ran to the bathroom, flipping up the toilet lid just in time to empty his stomach into the bowl. He sat beside it, feeling quite sorry for himself, and flushed it.

:

 **H.**

Hermione sat between Ron and George at the Burrow. The seat beside George was empty, and it was the giant, grey elephant in the room. Everyone thinking about who was missing, but nobody daring to acknowledge it. From the moment she had arrived, the Burrow was hostile. It did not have the cosy, homely vibe that she was used to. In fact, it seemed that ever since they had moved back into the house, one Weasley short, it bricks and mortar, no longer a home. The palace was one jester short, and all of the laughter had died with him.

It was to be expected, she knew, but she didn't feel as though she belonged there. It was as though she was intruding on the family's grief. She would stay for dinner, she decided.

 _Then I'm going home._

Ron rushed Hermione up to his room after dinner, and swept her into his arms. It had been days since they'd since each other, and before that there had been four years of romantic tension followed by one kiss in the middle of a battlefield. He kissed her again, as he had that day. Except without the imminent threat of death, it was not as urgent, and apparently, not as exciting. He moved his hands clumsily across her breasts and then he pulled her sweater over her head. She lay back on the bed and allowed him to climb on top of her and drive his grief into her over and over. She was a passive vessel for his relief, and he was clumsy; his hands like paws on her body. It was marginally better when she took the reins and moved on top, but less than a minute later, he reached his end, pushed her off him and flopped beside her.

"Wow", he panted.

And that was it. He was done.

* * *

"I can't believe I'm even entertaining his conversation", Snape said with a grimace so severe, Hermione thought he was in pain, "but, it will get better with time."

"I hope so."

He shifted as though he was uncomfortable, but he continued to humour her. He rolled his sleeves and avoided her eye as he spoke.

"Can I assume it was his first outing?"

"Yes", she said. "He's done stuff before with Lavender. Apparently, she spent the night once and they-"

She paused, and studied Snape's face. He was not yet absolutely horrified, but she imagined he teetered on the edge.

"I guess you don't want the details, huh?" she said, with a small, apologetic smile.

"Give me any bloody details and this conversation will finish quicker than your boyfriend."

There was a moment of silence before Hermione choked on her tea and Severus' pallid face flushed with colour.

"Sorry", she said, chewing on her thumb, disguising her face with her hand. "Yes, it was his first time."

"But not yours?"

"No, I lost-"

She caught his eye.

 _Right. No details._

"Viktor", she said, finally.

He raised his head and met her eyes.

"Krum?!"

"Yes..." she pursed her lips, defensively. "Why?"

"He's an idiot, Hermione."

She opened her mouth as though to protest, and then closed it, when a defence failed to materialise. Snape smiled and raised his eyebrows.

 _Okay. He wasn't the brightest._

"He was nice", she said eventually.

"You don't give it up for 'nice'. Jesus!"

"Who did _you_ give it up for?" she asked, and bit her lower lip.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you think that I would ever answer that question?"

She tilted her head and shrugged with one shoulder.

"Worth a shot", she said.

:

 **S.**

She gave him a knowing look; bold and a little dubious. He didn't know what she knew, but he assumed he was about to find out.

"I spoke to Harry", she said. "He told me about... the pensieve... your memories".

"Of course he did."

 _It's a shame they're not quite true._

"You loved his mother?" she asked.

Severus considered how best to answer.

 _Honestly? I could answer honestly, I suppose._

"Yes."

"What? All your life?"

 _Not quite._

He gave her a stiff nod, unsure why he was uncomfortable with the lie. He'd lied to Harry... to Dumbledore... to the Dark bloody Lord. Why not Granger too?

"I don't believe you", she said.

"Why?"

She fiddled with her bracelet, as though she did not want to look at him.

"You were in love with a dead woman for your _entire life_ and you didn't move on? You just let yourself be miserable and lonely?"

 _Well, those are two very different questions. Oh, piss it!_

"Fine", Snape said, "you want the truth?"

Hermione moved forward on her chair.

"Yes, I really do".

He sighed.

"Lily and I... we were friends for a long time. We dated. She was my..."

 _Oh God, don't say it._

"She was my first love..."

Hermione's lips twitched and then curved into a smile.

"Was she the one you... gave it up for?"

"Oh shut it, you."

He grinned at her.

"Anyway, we were involved for about a year or so", he said, "and then she started to spend time with Potter. I guess I got a tad jealous. I thought there was something going on, which she said, emphatically, was not true, but then she ended things with me."

 _Why am I telling you this?_

"And when we were over... who did she run to?"

"James", Hermione said, and pulled a face that made him want to laugh. "So, why did she end things?"

"My interest in dark magic... among other things."

"What other things?"

 _And that is where I draw my line._

"Too many to count. Anyway, I loved her, but I tried to move on. I dated someone else. An older girl... really beautiful, and bloody hell did she know it too. That didn't work out either. Surprise surprise."

 _Too vulnerable. Stop!_

"I met her, then I met the Dark Lord. I became a Death Eater at nineteen years old, damn reckless and stupid as I was. Then Lily got pregnant with that snotty little friend of yours. When I heard the prophecy, I relayed it to the Dark Lord. I couldn't have known it'd be Lily's son. He was premature, due in August, not July-"

He began to rush his words, eager to end the story there; not sure why he continued to tell it.

 _Keep talking._

 _Stop talking._

 _Get it off your chest. You'll feel better._

 _Keep your damn mouth shut!_

"The Dark Lord decided she would die. I begged for her life. He refused me."

 _Almost the truth. Good enough._

"I still cared for her; I still loved her even, I guess", he continued. "I don't let go of things very easily. I told Dumbledore what I knew and asked him to protect her. He said that he would, on the condition that I switched sides. And I did. I wasn't having much fun being a Death Eater anyway. It was a lot of kissing The Dark Lord's ring."

Hermione pulled a face and wiggled her eyebrows.

"Jesus wept. Not like that! Although... For some, it happened that way."

She let slip a short burst of laughter, but his scowl quietened her. She nodded apologetically, and bid him to continue.

"Well, as you know, Dumbledore's protection was worthless because Pettigrew betrayed them all and Lily died anyway. I blamed myself for her death. It was my fault after all. It... it broke me. I was never the same."

 _Enough! Stop it. Now._

"I did see other women", he said. "I well and truly moved on, but I still owed her. I promised myself I would see out my debt to her and then, finally, I would be free of her. I just didn't anticipate it taking twenty bloody years to fulfil my vow."

She nodded.

"Yep. That makes sense", she said. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For telling me the truth... Now", she said, flashing a cheeky grin. "Tell me about this older woman..."

"Not a chance."

:

 **H.**

Hermione returned to the Burrow the next morning, and as Severus had said, the second time with Ron was somewhat better than the first. If it continued to improve in such an upward trend, by the end of the month she might actually enjoy herself.

Molly and Arthur headed out to Diagon Alley to buy decorations for the wake. It didn't seem right to dress in black and mourn Fred's passing, they said. They should celebrate his life.

"It's not what Fred would have wanted", Arthur said.

"Really?" George snapped. "That's what he would have wanted, is it? Because _I_ think he'd want to be alive!"

"Come on now, George", Molly urged. "Get some breakfast in you and you'll feel better."

:

 **S.**

Severus awoke feeling out of sorts; his chest was tight and his palms felt clammy. He hadn't slept well, waking every hour or so, sticking to his sheets, drenched in his own sweat; sure that he'd just had a nightmare that he couldn't recollect. As he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, his eyes fell to the scars on his throat. They had dulled to pink now, and the bruises that surrounded it were a green, almost yellow colour.

He prodded at it, without thinking, and a clip of pain nipped at his spine. He'd done more damage than he'd thought, which would explain why it took him so damn long to move around freely. He was better, he thought.

 _I'm doing better. It's fine. I'm fine._

But his heart hammered in his chest and he felt something in the pit of his stomach, like foreboding.

 _I don't feel good,_ he thought. _I need to drink._

Snape cupped his hands under the running tap water and drank, but his mouth and his throat still felt dry and scratchy. The more he thought about it, the drier it became. No amount of water could soothe it.

 _Fuck, okay. I shouldn't have poked it. What did I do to the wound? Did I dislodge something?_

His heart rattled and his chest became tight as though it was trying to constrict to keep his heart still. His hands tingled under the water, and then he began to lose sensation; only the prickle of pins and needles remained.

 _Fuck! Okay. I'm breathing. Can I breathe? Oh God, I can't breathe._

Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, Severus' breathing became more shallow and he fought to catch his breath. It hitched and broke, and increased on every inhale, and again on each exhale.

 _Breathe, you fucking idiot._

He clutched his hand to his heart, as the pain in his chest worsened.

 _Is this a heart attack?_

He rifled through the medicine cabinet, hoping that he would find something that would help ease his situation. His hands trembled as he searched, and the packets and bottles began to drop one by one from the shelves as he knocked about inside.

 _Fuck!_

He flung his shaking hands across the whole cabinet, dislodging everything, bringing it all crashing down to the ground around him. He dropped the floor and put his head between his knees to stop the nausea. He grabbed his wand from his pocket and shot out his silver doe, then dropped his head into his trembling hands and sobbed.

:

 **H.**

"Severus?"

Snape sat with his back to the tub; his head in his hands. She moved cautiously towards him and gently lifted his chin. He snapped his head down, covering his face with his hair so that she couldn't look at him. She sat beside him and placed a hand of comfort on his knee.

"Your Patronus... It sounded urgent... I thought you were dying."

"So did I", he said, in a pathetic voice that was not his own. "I couldn't breathe, my chest hurt... my hands wouldn't stop fucking shaking..."

"A panic attack?"

He lifted his head a fraction so that he could peek at her from behind his hair. His eyes were bloodshot, and the dark circles around his eyes spoke volumes.

"Did you get any sleep?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Right, then you need to rest", she said, patting his knee. "But first... you need to eat. I'll bring something up to you, just get into bed whenever you're ready."

Hermione left him on the floor of the bathroom and it physically hurt her to do so, but she knew that she needed to give him as much space as possible. It was important, too, that she acted like it was perfectly normal, because it _was_ perfectly normal. However Severus was neither perfect nor normal, and she imagined that he would be more susceptible than most to the shame that often followed in the aftershocks of an attack.

She made up some toast, and then pulled out a jar of chocolate spread from the back of the cabinet. It must have been over a year old, but it tasted fine. It was what Lupin had said all those years ago on the Hogwarts Express, that had made her reach for the chocolate. Because really how different was a panic attack from a Dementor? They were both terrifying. Both imposing and aching to suck the very life out of the beholder. They both left you exhausted and feeling as though you would never feel joy again. She wondered if, actually, it was fear that gave Dementors their power.

"Hermione, why is there shit on my sandwich?" Snape asked.

 _You feel better then. Good. You had me worried._

"It's chocolate. Eat it," she said, with a smile just for herself. "You'll feel better."

:

 **S.**

Hermione didn't seem too bothered by his so-called 'panic attack', in fact, she took it in her stride. It was as though it was perfectly ordinary to shit your pants for no reason.

 _At least I didn't actually shit my pants this time._

He sat on the bed, and she moved in beside him, crossing her legs underneath her and fiddled with a ring on her left hand.

 _She's quite extraordinary, really. Not at all the person I thought she was._

Severus made a double take when he realised on which finger the ring sat.

 _No. What? No!_

"He asked you to marry him?" he asked.

"Yep."

"You can't marry him!"

"Why not?"

She didn't sound offended, she was curious. She really wanted to know.

"For a start, you're only eighteen! You have your whole life to make ridiculous, life-altering decisions. Save some for later."

She nodded as though she agreed.

"I haven't given him an answer".

"But you're wearing the ring?"

She ran her thumb across the tiny diamond and twisted it between her thumb and index finger.

"He gave it to me. I thought I'd try it on and see how I felt..."

He met her eyes. She was serious.

"And?" he asked.

"I think it's too soon and it feels almost... possessive."

 _Of course, he's possessive! Weasley couldn't land another girl like you if he searched for a hundred years._

"I don't think I want to get married just yet", she said. "Like you said, I'm eighteen."

"Wait ten years", he said. "At least!"

As she removed the ring and shoved it into her pocket, he caught sight of the scar that crossed her forearm. She'd seen him looking, and she elbowed him gently.

"Are you feeling unnecessarily guilty again?" she asked.

 _There is nothing 'unnecessary' about my guilt._

"Perhaps".

"Don't", she said kindly. "I'm okay. And that's how I know you will be too. I was scared all the time, but it's manageable now."

"I'm not scared."

"Maybe _you_ aren't... but your subconscious is."

He opened his mouth, but she glared at him, facetiously, as she intercepted the argument.

"And you're not in control of that, by the way, so it's not a reflection of your courage or character... okay?"

"Fine", he said. "And you're certain you're doing better now?"

 _I won't be this pitiful forever?_

"Yes", Hermione said. "I mean, at the time, it was awful. It was so demeaning... with everyone watching... and I was screaming. I thought I was going to die."

"I know."

She tilted her head softly and her hair fell down her shoulders.

" _How_ do you know?" she asked.

 _Show her the scar._

"I know what they are capable of."

 _She's already seen it. Show her. She wants to know._

"Because you've witnessed it? Or because you've lived it?"

 _I've never shown anyone._

"... Both."

 _Just show her the damn scar, already._

"Fine."

Snape unbuttoned his shirt sleeve, that was always purposely fastened down to his hands for this exact reason, and he rolled it up to the ditch of his elbow. He held out his arm for her to see for herself. Where Hermione's scars were red and itchy, his were faded to a silvery pink, hardly visible with skin as pale as his, but if you looked closely, you could read it. He looked at it every day.

"Sympathiser?" she asked.

"A gift from the Dark Lord" - he swallowed his discomfort - "when I asked him to spare Lily's life."

"Oh."

 _Just 'oh'? No judgment? No cringing? No pity? No tears?_

"He tortured me, as Bellatrix tortured you. Then, as I lay sobbing and bleeding, covered in my own shit, he carved _that_ into my arm to remind me never to make the same mistake again. I learned my lesson."

Her face had remained stoic and unchanged throughout his whole sorry tale, but as he nodded with a singular jerk of his head to indicate the story was finished, a small tear formed in the corner of her eye, in a perfect sphere, like a droplet of dew on a blade of grass.

She rested her head on his shoulder, and he allowed her to stay like that, waiting for it to become uncomfortable. But the discomfort never came. In fact, he felt quite at ease, as though it was perfectly natural. Like she quite belonged in his personal space.

 _Like I would share it with you._

She ran her fingers across his scar. It was gentle and empathetic; there was no judgment in her face or fear in her touch because she knew exactly what he had gone through. He felt heard and understood. For the first time all day, all year perhaps, he felt quite safe, quite sound; quite... whole.

* * *

 **AN:** With apologies to my next door neighbours who definitely heard how hard I laughed at my own silly joke, as I wrote the line 'give me any bloody details and this conversation will finish quicker than your boyfriend'.


	6. Chapter 6

6\. Spinners End

 **H.**

As the weeks passed, Hermione spent less time with Severus, and more time at the Burrow. The fog of grief began to lift, as time healed the Weasleys, and life became more bearable. She relaxed into life with Ron, and accepted his proposal on the condition that he understood that she did not intend to get married any time soon and she didn't want to wear the ring. Essentially nothing would change, but he felt as though there was some promise of a future. She wanted to concentrate on her career first. Whereas Ron, who wanted a big family, like his own, was ready to settle down at eighteen, deciding the course of his life when he was hardly out of childhood. Severus had become something of a reluctant confidant for Hermione. One might even call them friends.

Hermione circled job vacancies in the Prophet as she sipped on a mug of lukewarm coffee. She could hardly consider it good luck that there were plenty of jobs, given that the reason the vacancies existed was that many good people had died in the battle. Hermione had already applied for five mid-level positions and had been rejected for each one. It seemed that not finishing school to take her NEWTs was more of an issue than she'd anticipated.

After a long search, and more rejection than her fragile ego could handle, Hermione had finally managed to snag a post in the Ministry under Arthur. It was well above an entry-level position, usually given to witches and wizards who'd completed years of training, but Arthur had managed to pull some strings to secure it for her. She had hoped that he might find her something a little more exciting. The job wasn't difficult, which was entirely the problem - she didn't feel challenged. As such she was bored, but she couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Still, she continued to search for something a little more interesting.

She flicked through the pages of the Prophet, out of habit or boredom, she wasn't sure which, and settled on the fifth page. A short article underneath a small, grainy photograph of Snape. She skimmed the words, wondering if they'd found something new to write about. They hadn't. It was much of the same nonsense. At Hermione's insistence, Harry had approached the Ministry with news of Severus' innocence, and they had accepted it without question. Harry was well and truly the golden boy of the wizarding world in the wake of their victory. He could return to the wizarding world whenever he was ready, but when that would be remained to be seen.

:

 **S.**

Severus stared at the clock, counting down the minutes until quarter past three, and cursed himself for waiting like an obedient dog at the doorstep. Hermione arrived at the same time every day, dropping in on her way home from work. Her job sounded horribly boring, truth be told, but she was pleased to be independent and contributing. Severus wanted to be independent and to contribute too, but he wasn't quite sure that he was ready to return home. Her house had become his refuge, and Spinner's End was entirely its opposite. It wasn't right, he knew, for a man his age, of his calibre, to eagerly await the return of a teenager, but Hermione was his only contact with the outside world, save for the letters to and from Narcissa in Azkaban.

His fondness for the girl had become a tad worrisome. He cared for her, no doubt, but there was something thick in the air between them from time to time, that made it difficult to catch his breath. Not that he could place his finger on what that 'something' was. He needed to get back to the world, and so he would have to return to Spinners End soon, he knew. He needed to learn to do things without her. After all, this charade could not continue forever. She had cared for him long enough. It was time to be _Severus Snape_ , not this piteous creature that had crawled out of the Shrieking Shack wearing his skin.

Hermione flooed into the living room, brushing the soot off her clothes and she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. It was something that she had begun to do in the last few weeks, and even though it felt somewhat unnatural at first, he had begun to revel in the affection. It had been so long since someone had kissed him; even in so platonic a fashion.

She thought that returning to Spinners End was a great idea, and she was happy to go with him, which left him without an excuse to stay. She dropped her hand into his and squeezed it as she led him to the fireplace. He hadn't mentioned his fear of returning home, but it was as though she had sensed it, or anticipated it. She knew him better than anyone, with the exception of Narcissa, although perhaps that wasn't true anymore. Narcissa didn't know the piteous creature - she knew _Severus Snape_. He was much the same in many ways, but he was a little softer around the edges.

 _Ridiculous._

Pulling on his trousers that morning, he came to the conclusion that he could shake off the piteous creature, and return to being _Severus Snape_ , but he could stand to be a little more patient, and a little less sullen. It had been the reason that both Lily and Narcissa had swiftly moved on, after all. Lily needed someone lighter - someone good, and Narcissa needed someone 'happier', she said, although he still wondered if she had meant 'better looking' or 'more opulent' or 'with purer blood'. The common thread of both relationships, was that upon their severance, his 'attitude' had been quoted as the cause for his broken heart. He did not want it to be the same with Hermione. Not that he saw Hermione as a romantic interest.

 _Not that she would return my interest if I did. Which I do not!_

Spinners End looked like it had been vacant for many years, even though it had been mere months since his last visit. It was neat, everything in its place, but it was cold and it smelled of damp.

 _Perhaps it was always like this._

The wall that surrounded the fireplace was filled from top to bottom with shelves stacked full of books of all kinds. Hermione's eyes lit up and he felt a tug in his chest that he swiftly dismissed. She ran her fingers across the spines, and he hoped that she didn't study her finger because he was hardly a stickler for cleanliness. On the coffee table sat the book that he had been part-way through before everything had happened. He tried to feel as he had then; a little lonely but content with his place in the world.

"You know, I think this is exactly what I pictured", she said.

"My house? You thought about it?"

 _It doesn't mean anything._

"Well, yeah. I just wondered what kind of place felt like home to someone like you. Although, I must admit that I could just as easily imagine you at home in a cave."

"Hanging from the roof with my wings tucked in?"

Her lips parted and split into a smile.

"Exactly."

 _She looks different... nice._

Deciding to stay the night at Spinners End was probably a little premature. He had made it through the evening without incident, and so he headed into his bedroom to try catch up on some sleep. But the darkness, which had always been his safe place, did not soothe him. Suddenly the shadows were full of secrets. What had once been mysterious, now only meant unknown. He had always been so comfortable with his own company, even at Hermione's house, he'd become accustomed to nights alone, but something about being back in the birthplace of his trauma, kicked up decades-old dust, and as he tried to navigate through the cloud, he choked.

 _Coward._

In the black of night, he grabbed a bag, filled it with books, moved into the fireplace and without a second glance, he flooed back to Hermione's house. He crawled into his tiny bed in the guest room, and the moment his head hit the pillow, he was out for the count.

:

 **H.**

"Tell them to piss off!", Hermione shouted down the stairs of The Burrow, slamming Ron's bedroom door behind her.

Ron lay on the bed, propped up on a couple of cushions; a copy of The Prophet open in his lap. He flicked through it, but he wasn't reading.

"They won't bloody well leave me alone. Ever since Severus came out of hiding, they've been all over me to tell them what he's been up to."

Ron flipped another page.

"Shocking. Since you're the only person who has had contact with him for the last three months."

She sighed impatiently.

"Do you have something you'd like to say, Ronald?"

He shook his head and returned his eyes to the pages. She sat beside him on the bed and gently moved his arms so that the newspaper lay flat against his stomach.

"What's up?" she asked.

"This", he said, and thrust the paper into her hands.

She stared at the article in front of her.

 **SNAPE'S SORDID SECRET**

Underneath the article was a photograph of Hermione. She watched herself step out of Spinners End, under the cover of darkness, as Snape closed the door behind her.

"Skeeter, I assume?"

Ron shrugged.

"Who else would it be? You had to piss her off, didn't you?"

Hermione tilted her head as though to tell him, kindly, that he was being ridiculous.

"You know it isn't true, so what does it matter?"

He sat upright and snatched the paper from her hands. He pointed at the picture and then traced a line underneath the headline.

"I have to go to work tomorrow with people who think that you're off shacking up with your old Potions professor."

"Oh, don't be silly. Who cares what they think?"

"I do! Bloody hell, I look like some loser whose girlfriend is off making a fool of him, Hermione. And you know what - you _are_ making a fool of me!"

"Ron? Come on. I'm sorry. What do you want me to do?"

He gestured at the paper.

"Don't go into his house in the middle of the night, maybe? Jesus!"

"He'd had a bad turn. He needed me."

 _I like that he needs me._

Ron rolled his eyes and stepped off the bed.

"Rubbish! _I_ need you, Hermione. Me, your boyfriend. No! Actually... your fiancé, need I remind you? Even if you don't wear the ring, which I am really trying not to take personally, by the way."

"I'm sorry, I-"

He held his hand out in protest, and paced around the bed.

"I need you here with _me_ , not running off with Severus bloody Snape! I mean, for Christ's sake, it's ridiculous! He can look after himself. I don't care how fucking wonderful he turned out to be. And you know, I have to say it... I don't think that saving Harry's life because he had a boner for his Mum is good enough reason to hail him a hero. And yet they have! And here I am, the chump friend of Harry Potter, who lets his girl run off with another man every night."

"I had no idea it upset you this much. I'm sorry. But what do you expect me to do? End the friendship?"

She raised her eyebrows in defiance and crossed her arms as she waited for his reply.

"I don't want to tell you what to do..." he said.

 _Don't make me choose._

"... But, yes. If it was up to me, you'd never see him again."

:

 **S.**

Hermione sat by the clock tower at exactly midday as she had promised. As he approached, he noted the smudged black lines under her eyes. She hadn't noticed him yet, and so he let himself linger by the bank and watch her a moment. She ran her forefinger across the tear-stains and shook off her sadness as she drew herself tall. He so admired the way in which she pulled herself together. She wasn't like this as a student - in such a hurry all the time, acting and speaking without thought - she'd grown into someone entirely different. She took command of the situation when it so required, but she also knew when to step back.

 _She probably learned that from being on the run with Potter and Weasley. I'd bet they tried her patience on more than one occasion._

As he moved towards her, and she caught sight of him, her whole face changed. Her eyes brightened, and her lips curved into a pretty little crescent, and all at once there was no sign of her misery.

 _It doesn't mean anything._

:

 **H.**

She almost didn't notice him at first among the crowd of muggles. She felt her muscles unlock as she took in the sight of him. He radiated a calm that she so desperately wanted to emulate. He looked well; better than he had in a long time. He had dressed down, more suited to the August heatwave, handsome in a loose-fitting, black, button-down shirt tucked into charcoal pinstripe trousers; the trouser legs pinched together at the bottom, pushed neatly into his boots. As he moved towards her, he unfastened the top button of his shirt and needled his long fingers through his hair. He looked... good.

"Your letter said you wanted to talk?" he said, as he perched on the bench beside her. "Couldn't we talk at home?"

 _Home._

It was so odd, but utterly charming, that he considered her parents' house, his home; _their_ home.

"That's actually what I wanted to speak with you about."

He began to tap his foot, and she ran soothing circles with her palms across her knee.

"You've seen the papers, I assume?" she said.

He scoffed.

"What a load of shit!"

"I know it is", Hermione said softly, "but Ron doesn't."

He paused for a moment, his cogs turning in their silence.

"He doesn't want us spending time together, does he?" Snape asked.

 _He's perceptive. And gorgeous. What's different? Why does he look so good?_

"Sorry", she said, unable to find the words to say more.

"Right", he said, nodding his head with a jerk, "that makes sense. I understand. Well... thank you, Hermione, for everything."

 _Wait. No. What?_

"This isn't goodbye. It's just 'see you later'", she said, but the words felt hollow as they fell from her mouth.

"Listen. You need to do what's best for you... and if what is best for you is keeping your... _paramour_... happy, then that's just fine."

 _Why does this feel like the end of something that never even got to begin?_

"It's not that he doesn't trust me," she protested, realising as she did that he hadn't said anything to the contrary; that thought had come unprompted. "He just thinks it looks bad that we're spending time together alone?"

He smoothed his shirt collar and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. He knew as well as she did, that she was referring to the night of his panic attack. He had needed her; he didn't want to. It wasn't fair that they were to punish each other for it.

 _It's not fair that I have to walk away from you._

"I understand entirely", he said.

 _Why am I doing this?_

"If you need me, please don't hesitate-"

 _I don't want to do this._

"I will be absolutely fine, Granger. Don't you worry about me."

 _Don't do that. Don't call me 'Granger'._

"If you ever need to get away from Spinners End, Mum and Dad won't be back from Australia for another few months when their lease is up. You're always welcome there..."

 _... In our home._

He patted her on the knee, then quickly drew his hand away. He stood and made a show of moving away from her, purposely creating a rift between them.

"Thank you", he said. "But I should be off. We don't want Weasley getting his knickers in a twist, now do we?"

"Don't be like that", she said.

"How did you expect me to be?" he asked, but before she had the chance to answer, he had stepped into a crowd of passing tourists, and disappeared into London's busy streets.

:

 **S.**

 _I'm fine. I'm a man! I do not need to go running to Granger after three weeks of no contact, simply because there was a bloody snake on the television and I've spiralled into madness. It's just a snake, Severus. Grow a backbone, for God's sake!_

Snape paced the floor of his living room, kicking aside anything that stood in his way so that he could move unobstructed, but also because it relieved some of the tension. It made him feel powerful; like he could take control of something, like a man should.

 _Except you are hardly a man, are you? Your heart is racing because you're scared of a snake! There was a child... a child, Severus... holding the fucking thing. And you want to go off crying to the girl because she makes you feel better? Well, she doesn't want you. She made her choice. She chose Weasley. She'll marry the little turd and they'll have a gaggle of snotty, freckled children. They'll be miserable, and end up divorced before they're thirty, but that will be their choice._

Snape threw himself onto the sofa and kicked his feet onto the coffee table.

 _Stop it! Stop that right now. You don't get to be bitter. She is nineteen. It's not right._

 _What does it matter whether it is right?_ he heard Lucius say from the back of his mind. _It is what it is._

 _God, I miss her._

:

 **H.**

"We can't stay here anymore, Ron, it's ridiculous. There are too many people under one roof! We don't have any privacy."

"Fine, then we'll stay at your Mum and Dad's."

Hermione considered it. She couldn't think of a single reason not to. Except the obvious, but she could never express it.

 _That's our place. Severus' and mine._

:

 **S.**

Severus lay in his bed, with his sheets tucked up to his chin and breathed heavy sighs from his nostrils. His mouth was set in a hard line. He could hear his heartbeat, and he clenched his teeth harder while the beating quickened.

 _I stared pure evil in the face for years. Why the hell can't I get a handle on this? It was hours ago. And it was just a snake. If there was a snake here in this room, then your fear might be rational, but as it stands, it was a snake on the bloody television so pull it together, you ridiculous bastard._

There was only one place he wanted to go, but wanting to go there, to her home, was indicative of something he refused to accept.

 _She won't be there._

 _It doesn't matter, I can't._

 _You can. You should!_

 _It's not right._

 _Aren't you sick of doing what's right?_

Snape rubbed his face with his hands and let out an audible groan of irritation.

 _You need to sleep, you have to go find yourself a job in the morning._

 _Shut up!_

He stared at the patterns in the textured ceiling, following their lines and circles, visible in the light from the hallway.

 _Might as well get yourself a fucking nightlight._

 _Shut the fuck up!_

 _Just go to her house, you'll feel better. You'll get some sleep. You'll wake up refreshed and then, when you've gotten yourself a job and made some money, you can get rid of this dump indefinitely, and all your troubles will be over._

He kicked off his blanket and pulled himself out of bed.

 _Fine!_

Snape flooed into Hermione's house and moved silently into the living room. He noticed the stillness in his core and the absence of static in his head almost immediately. There was something restorative and healing about returning to this place.

 _It's like coming home._

He walked through the house, enjoying the silence and avoided the creaky floorboards on the stairs, as Hermione had shown him, simply out of habit. As he moved onto the landing his attention snapped to Hermione's room. The door was ajar, and a channel of dim light peeped through the crack. He walked towards it, and gently pushed open the door just a fraction. He felt his breath hitch in his chest when he saw her.

 _She wasn't supposed to be here._

She pulled off her jeans, and she was all legs and arse and soft flesh.

 _Oh shit._

He couldn't help but look, even though he knew he shouldn't, as she folded her jeans and dropped them at the foot of the bed. As she took hold of her shirt and began to pull it over her head, he snapped back to his senses.

 _Go home, Severus._

He stepped backwards, in a bid to leave without being seen, but his foot caught and brushed on the carpet. It was such a small sound, but it splintered the silence, and she turned quickly on her heel to face him. She was the one undressed, but it was he who felt exposed.

 _I'm sorry,_ he thought, unable to bring himself to say the words; not daring to disturb the silence again.

She didn't speak either, nor did she move to cover herself. She just stood in front of him, meeting his gaze as though they were in a standoff. Whoever blinked first would die. The corners of her mouth twitched, into what was almost a smile and without thinking, his eyes dropped to her chest. Then he took in the rest of her. When his eyes drew back to hers, he saw something he hadn't seen in a long time.

 _Desire? Holy shit._

:

 **H.**

Warmth flooded her as Severus' eyes flickered away from her face. His eyes were not greedy like Viktor's had been or desperate like Ron's; they were on fire, and she felt the flames flicker across the room and set every one of her nerve endings ablaze.

 _Nobody has ever looked at me like that._

She felt her heartbeat skipping like stones on the water, as his gaze moved carefully down her body as though he intended to commit it memory.

 _Don't look away. Why don't I want you to look away?_ _Yes! Look at me._

:

 **S.**

She broke her gaze and began to move around the bedroom as though he wasn't there. She dropped her shirt next to her jeans, and moved into the candlelight. She turned so that she did not face him, as though the sight of him would ruin whatever fantasy she had created. She swept her arms around her back as if she had practised and perfected the motion so that it toyed with his senses, and unhooked her bra. It came undone and she turned to meet his eyes as she dropped it to the floor.

 _Oh shit. She wants me to look at her?_

He stared at her face, knowing that just inches below his gaze were her tits. His dick ached, begging him to take a look. And just as he decided that decency was highly overrated, he heard a rustling from the en suite bathroom, and Weasley's voice fractured through their secrecy.

"Ready for bed, 'Mione?"

 _What the fuck? He's here?!_

The spell was broken, and Hermione hastily pulled her nightgown from the bed and tugged it over her head. He caught the undercurve of her breast and the peak of a nipple as she swung round to look at Weasley who broke into the room, unaware of the moment he had sullied.

 _What the hell is this? No. This isn't right. It's sick. Go home._

She pulled the nightdress down so that it covered her body and she simpered at Weasley with what he assumed were her bedroom eyes. Even as she prepared to share her body with someone else, she was beautiful.

 _Look at her. Fuck! She's beautiful. Leave, Severus._

There was no doubt she was beautiful. He'd never get the sight out of his mind as long as he lived but whatever it was - whatever semblance of friendship they'd had - was soiled with this crime. Whatever game they were playing, was over; the rules changed. And he was no match for Weasley, stupid and immature as he was, he was young and handsome, and sane.

 _Oh, you wretched fool. You thought you could compete for her affections? She's nineteen, you horny, old bastard. She should be with someone her age. You're done here. Go home._

He stared at her as she embraced Weasley, in an attempt to shield him from his view. He watched the boy run his hands down the cotton of her nightdress and as he slid his hands across her arse, the tightness in Snape's trousers eased. The pressure moved upwards from his crotch to his stomach that tied itself in knots, and then up it moved, further still, until he felt it in his chest that constricted and contracted, threatening to kill him.

 _I can't do this anymore. That's enough now._

He stepped backwards again and allowed Hermione to distract the boy, while he moved swiftly and silently down the stairs. As soon as his foot hit the bottom step, he pulled his wand from the pocket of his robes and with a crack of his wand, he disapparated.

 _Yeah. I'm done._


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** Here's where I upset you all by changing the pace and mood entirely, haha.

And oh, right, yeah. Quick thing. Probably should have mentioned it before but there is some SERIOUS Ron-bashing in this fic. I do like Ron (for the most part) but for the purposes of this story, he's a wanker. There is no redemption arc. He just sucks. It's not really OOC, I don't think, but it's all of the worst of his character and none of his redeeming traits. You can always let me know if you disagree, of course.

* * *

7\. Staccato

 **S.**

The woman who sat opposite him at the table was a dark-haired witch, with thin, pursed lips and pale skin like his. She could stand to loosen up a little, but she was pretty enough. She might want to unfasten a couple of buttons and hitch up her skirt a little. She looked a little older than the thirty-one years she claimed, but still much younger than he was, and far more attractive than the last date he had. Snape shuddered as he recalled the look of devastation on her face when he'd prematurely ended the date. Lucius had howled with laughter when Snape had stormed into Malfoy Manor demanding an explanation.

It wasn't just that she'd been unattractive - he was hardly a looker himself - but she was the most mind-numbingly stupid and boring woman he had ever met. It had made him nostalgic for the witch before her, who had long legs and flame-red hair, and even though she was almost definitely as mad as a bag of cats, she was at least, an interesting conversation. He'd dated a lot over the last few years, but nothing had really stuck. He was searching for something that he couldn't place his finger on, but he knew that he had yet to find it. It was fine to settle for less when it came to something casual, but if he was going to be all-in, exclusive and committed, then she'd have to be something special. Maybe this witch was the one who'd finally lock him down.

 _Doubt it. What's her name, again? Cristina?_

"Sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name?" he said.

"It's Cressida", the witch said, a little impatiently.

 _Understandable,_ he figured, since she'd already mentioned it twice.

"Cressida", he said. "Of course. It's lovely."

She gave a tight smile and thanked him.

 _Well-recovered._

"Tell me, _Cressida..._ What do you do?"

She placed her hands together and shuffled on the chair.

"Well", she said, "I've been working with my father for the last few years, but I used to work for Gringotts. It was actually very exciting, I think I will go back there soon."

 _Banking. How thrilling._

"I bet it was. What did you do for them?"

"Well, I worked alongside the Goblins to..."

But Snape never learned what she did alongside the Goblins, because his attention was drawn immediately to the couple who were ushered in to a table near the kitchen. The wizarding world had mostly lost interest in Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, but they were still very much following the lives of Harry Potter and, unfortunately, Severus Snape. She ran her hands through her hair and tucked it behind her ear as she took a menu from the waiter. He looked back at Cressida and nodded.

"... so then they sent me to France to work there for a couple of months", she said.

"How utterly fascinating. Tell me more."

"Well, they asked me to go because I speak French. I studied at Beauxbatons, you know?"

"Yes, you mentioned", he said, curtly.

"I lived with my Grandmother", she continued. "Dad thought I should..."

Hermione smiled politely at Weasley as he muttered something he couldn't hear, but he gestured to the menu and grinned as though he was the happiest man in the world. She was skinny, and a little pale. But still beautiful.

 _How long has it been? Six years? Seven? I can't believe they're still together._

He studied her hand for a ring, but she didn't wear one. However, she had not worn one before, so it hardly meant anything. Snape drew back to his date, only when he realised that she had stopped talking. She turned in her chair to follow his gaze.

"Do you know them?" she asked.

Her legs bounced under the table and it irritated him.

"Old students of mine", he said.

She nodded.

"Teacher's pets?"

"Pah! Quite the opposite. I was neither impressed by them or their little buddy... _Potter_."

Cressida moved her body forward onto the table so that her breasts sat in her plate, which thankfully was empty and clean.

"Harry Potter? So that would be the Weasley kid? What was his name?"

"Ronald", he clipped.

She clapped her hands together.

"Ronald Weasley, yes! And the girl is Hermione Granger?"

 _How the hell did you remember her name? I can hardly remember yours. Cressida. Cress-i-da. Fuck, what's your surname? Did I even ask?_

"So what do you do, Severus?" she asked, meeting his eyes with interest.

"I work at the King Street Library."

"Isn't that a muggle library?"

He bristled. He often received this reaction from wizards. He was long-past caring to defend himself.

"It is primarily a muggle facility, yes. I work mostly with magical texts", he said stiffly. "I'm a curator for-"

"Oh, a curator?" she interrupted. "That must be interesting."

" _I_ enjoy it."

The waiter returned to Hermione and Weasley's table and took their order. They had hardly spent two minutes looking at the menu, as though they knew already what they wanted.

 _Do they come here often? Do they have the same thing every time?_

"Cressida, tell me", he said, turning to the woman he was supposed to be attending to. "What do you enjoy doing? What do you do when you're not working at Gringotts?"

She pulled a face and said a little shortly, "I told you, I don't work there anymore."

"So you did, my apologies. What do you do when you're not working... with your... "

 _I want to say your father? Fuck it._

"... with your father?"

Her wiry, red lips broke into a smile.

 _See, I was listening. Sort of._

"For example, I like to read, and I dabble in photography, and I like to travel. What about you?"

 _That should keep you talking for a while._

"Oh I love to travel", she said, with all of the enthusiasm of someone who absolutely did not like to travel; she was a homebody; a nesting bird. "I moved around a lot for work, and I was always excited to..."

The shrill, obnoxious ringing of a mobile telephone drew everyone's attention to Hermione and Weasley's table. Even Cressida turned around for a moment, before drawing back to him to continue with whatever it was she telling him. Weasley placed his hand out in front of Hermione and took the call at the table.

 _Rude. Arrogant._

She rubbed her head with her fingers and waited for the ignorant git to get off the phone. When he did, he stood up, and bowed as though in apology. She looked at him, with an irritated prickle in her stare. Then she nodded, as he patted her on the shoulder and kissed her cheek. Hermione leant back in her chair and crossed her hands in her lap. She looked around the room, lingering on an odd, abstract painting that hung to her left, his right, that was either of a bowl of fruit, or a tree, or a nude woman. She looked up then, and her eyes widened with recognition, flicking her gaze from his face, to his table, to his date.

 _God. You stare at someone long enough and they turn around._

She smiled, as though she was as unsure as he was what their next move should be. Their last encounter had been so awkward, and so final, he'd expected that he would see her again eventually, but not quite so soon. She mouthed the word that he'd wanted to say to her for so long. It's quick staccato was the opening of a door, that he had not only closed but locked behind him.

'Hi'.

 _That's what I have been searching for. I have been trying to recreate with somebody else, what I found with..._

 _What did you find with her? Humiliation? Shame? Torment?_

 _Piss off, Lucius._

:

 **H.**

 _What the hell is he doing here?_

Hermione studied the woman at his table. The way that she laughed a little louder than she needed to, and threw her head to ruffle her hair- they were on a date, and the woman was definitely into him.

 _Why wouldn't she be?_

The woman turned around in her seat to face her. Hermione could only see her profile but she looked fairly pretty. She was probably in her mid-thirties, she assumed, maybe younger, but the cut of her hair aged her. She wore lipstick that looked a little too intense for her porcelain skin, but without seeing it in the context of her whole face, Hermione couldn't be sure. She wore a blazer and black tights, and so a picture began to form in Hermione's mind. A well-dressed woman; modest and professional, but a little sexy. The buttons of her blouse would be unfastened just enough that you could take a peek of her cleavage without getting an eyeful. The kind of woman who leaves something to the imagination. Hermione craned her neck to get a better look at the woman, but she did not turn back. When she pulled her hair into her hands as she spoke with him, she revealed a rather large tattoo of a snake on the back of her neck that disappeared beneath her jacket.

 _Put together, mature, but a little edgy? She's perfect for him._

The waiter approached and asked if her 'companion would be returning', and Hermione couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"No", she said. "It'll be just me, I guess".

"We can wrap it up for you, if you'd like?"

She looked up at Severus, and saw that his eyes met hers. He wasn't paying attention to the woman in front of him.

 _He's paying attention to me._

"No thank you," Hermione said. "I think I'll stay. I'd like to see what happens."

:

 **S.**

 _Go to her. You have unfinished business._

Cressida continued to talk as though she had not noticed that his stare had been vacant. He looked at her as she tucked into her cheesecake, taking small slivers off the cake and nibbling.

 _Who eats like that?_

"So, Cressida", he said, with a business-like tone to his voice. "What is it that you hope to get from this evening?"

She dropped her fork from her mouth and asked, "excuse me?"

Snape took the napkin from his lap and dropped it on the table next to him.

"What do you want with me?" he asked. "Something casual? A quick and intense romance? Marriage and children? A quick shag out in the alley?"

She withdrew into herself, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

"Err, I don't know. I just thought we would have fun tonight and see where it goes."

 _Just leave._

"Let me tell you what I want", he placed his hands flat on the table. "Perhaps I should have been clearer before now, I don't know. I do not want to settle down. I enjoy dating and I enjoy sex, but I do not want to be exclusive with you. I suspect that you do not want something so non-committal?"

"Well, I... No, I suppose not, but maybe we could..."

 _Oh my God, woman. What do I have to say to get you to leave?_ _Take the hint. I'm trying to be gentle. Life was so much easier when I just told people to 'fuck off and leave me alone'._

"Sorry, I think you misunderstand me. What I am saying is that I don't think we are well-suited. We don't seem to have very much in common. Particularly since you have just shuddered at the word 'shag'. I think you're a little prim, which is fine, but I am... I don't know... gritty?"

"I wouldn't call myself 'prim'. You hardly know me."

Her tone was sharp and irritable.

"True, but it would be foolish to continue this charade if we don't want the same thing. We should just end the date here, don't you think?"

"I think we should continue to get to know each other", she said, sipping at her glass of wine. "I might surprise you."

 _Right. You asked for it._

"Let me make myself crystal clear. Unless you plan on ending this evening on all fours in the alley behind the restaurant, we are done here."

 _That should do it._

"You're disgusting!" she said, standing to her feet.

 _Yep._

Her anger drew everybody's eyes to her. Except for Severus, whose eyes moved past Cressida to Hermione who played with her food, wrapping the spaghetti around the fork and then dropping it back to the plate. Cressida looked back at Hermione, and then narrowed her eyes.

"We're not compatible, huh?" she said.

He shrugged.

"Doubt it."

"Fine", she snipped. "Call me when you change your mind."

:

 **H.**

Severus' date stood up in the middle of dessert, pushing her chair out behind her with a screech. She whipped her napkin off her lap and threw it onto the seat. She made for the door without turning back and Hermione was a little put out that she didn't get chance to take a proper look at the kind of woman that Severus would the woman left the restaurant, Severus sat back in his chair and grinned to himself.

 _Men will continue to be a mystery to me._

He met her eyes again, then and jerked his head as though to invite her to join him at his table. She paused for a moment, not sure if she'd read him correctly.

 _He looks so sure of himself. Almost a little cocky._

His dark hair was longer than before, falling past his shoulders to his chest, but it was thicker; clean and textured. He'd traded his head to toe, jet black get-up, for various shades of black, along with grey and white. A change, but still very much, himself. His shirt sleeves were folded neatly midway down his thick forearms. He had put on weight and muscle, so that he looked stronger and healthier. She looked down at her own body and wished she could say the same for herself. He'd kept the beard, but it was short and neat, with a little salt amid the pepper.

 _He looks good._

He kicked the chair opposite him out from under the table, without saying a word. He just looked at her. A gentleman might have stood up and pulled out the seat for her.

 _But he's not a gentleman._

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes", Severus said, as she took the seat cautiously and he took his glass of red from the table and drained it. "I'm going to get another. The same for you?"

"Sure", she said, not sure if she liked red. She'd only ever had white and rosé.

 _He seems different._

:

 **S.**

Hermione Granger was the kind of beauty best observed up close. Many women were striking from afar, but the closer they became, the more their features blurred into flaws. Severus was not picky when it came to looks, for the most part, preferring a good conversation over a pretty face. Of course, he was still a man, and so he was not immune to the charm of a beautiful woman. In his teenage years, he would have stuck it in just about anything he was allowed, but as an adult, unthinkably, he found that he was able to be much more selective. Hermione was pretty in her motions - her wide smile, her expressive eyes, her hands. It was not a beauty so easily seen, so much as it was known. He supposed that she was pretty with hindsight. Knowing her as he did, was what made her beautiful.

"So, you and Weasley..." he said, "how long have you been together now?"

"Seven years, on and off", she answered, fiddling with her bracelet.

"On and off?"

"Well, I had a couple of casual relationships - I dated a muggle called Matthew for a while, and Cormac McLaggen, do you remember him?"

 _McLaggen!? He's worse than the idiot!_

He nodded.

"Whatever happened, I always ended up back with Ron", she continued. "We'd fall out, break up, get back together. It's a cycle. We're sort of... stuck with each other, I suppose."

 _Stuck? You're settling? Don't you want to be happy?_

"He worked at the ministry with me for a while, too", she said, as if she thought he'd give a shit about what Weasley was up to, "but he's at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes now. So I'm there by myself, really."

"You're still at the ministry?!"

She shuffled uncomfortably on her chair.

"Sorry", he said, "I didn't mean that to sound judgmental. I'm just surprised. I thought you hated it there?"

She made herself smaller on her seat and sipped her wine.

"I guess I just got comfortable."

She was different - not quite how he remembered her - she hardly met his gaze, speaking mostly to the food on her plate. Nor did she have her usual vibrancy. She was bored, he figured. Unhappy in both her relationship, _obviously_ , and her job. He felt sorry for her, in a way, which was a nice turn of fate - a reversal of roles - but he did not take any joy in her misery. He felt it as though it was _his_ misery. It had been seven years, and yet not a week had passed in which he did not think about her or wonder how she was doing. Of all the lives he had pictured her living, he had never imagined this. In every life, she was happy.

 _You can help. You owe her._

"Hermione, if you want something new, there's an opening at the library. I could maybe put in a good word for you?"

 _She needs a job. It's fine._

She eyed him suspiciously.

"Are you sure?"

"Are you still a reader?" he asked. "Still academic?"

There was a twitch in her mouth that made him think that perhaps he had offended her.

"Yes, I am who I always was."

 _Are you quite sure about that?_

"In fact! I read something the other day", she said, and in an instant, her whole face changed. "It was absolutely fascinating."

She was bright, beautiful and engaged. Exactly how he remembered her.

 _There you are._

"There was an article in the Prophet about new regulations on the sale of Polyjuice. It got me thinking about how much I used to enjoy brewing, and then I just stopped. It was simpler to buy potions from the apothecary, y'know? But I felt a little flicker of excitement and so I hit the books. Before I knew it, I was pulling out old textbooks and it got me thinking... about you, actually."

 _You think about me?_

"Do you still dabble?" she asked.

"In potion-making? No, not so much. Like you said, it's easier to buy ready-made."

"It's a shame, don't you think?"

He nodded.

"Yes. It's a shame."

 _It is all such a damn shame._

"Perhaps we could work on something together?" she suggested.

She must have seen the flash of interested surprise in his eyes because quickly she said, "no, you're right, that would be weird. Sorry. For a moment I forgot that we- well... you know.'"

"I understand", he said. "For a moment there, it was almost like no time at all had passed."

She tucked her hair behind her ear and wrinkled her nose as she smiled at him.

 _Is it possible that she's even more beautiful? I'm going to need another drink._

:

 **H.**

 _How could it possibly have been seven years? I still think of you._

He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and poured himself another glass of wine.

 _I wish I'd dressed up tonight. If I'd known I was going to bump into you..._

"Were you serious about that job?" she asked.

 _He feels sorry for you. You're really not coming off very well, right now. Lean into it. Play your cards right and you might get a job offer out of it._

"I could really do with a change of pace", she said.

"Absolutely. I'll speak to the boss."

"Would I be working with you?" she asked. "Assuming that I got the job, of course."

"Perhaps. I collaborate with the librarians from time to time."

 _So I would see you from time to time._

"Would you be okay with that? I don't want things to be awkward..."

 _Remember the last time you saw me._

"... Because of, you know... the last time we -"

 _Remember what you could have had. Remember, Severus._

"I think I can restrain myself", he said with a crooked smile.

 _Remember it like I remember it. It's been seven years. I have not forgotten. I have never let myself forget._

She smiled at him, holding her gaze for a little longer than was comfortable.

 _Remember me._

"I'm really sorry about-"

Severus lifted his hand to stop her.

"We don't need to re-hash old times", he said, looking down at his glass. "What is done is done. Let us not dwell on it."

 _Maybe I want to dwell. I've missed you._

"You're right", she said brightly, "we still have a lot to catch up on."

Severus smiled and she felt her cheeks flush hot.

"Mmm", he said, swallowing a mouthful of wine. "Yes, we do."

:

 **S.**

Lucius threw his palm to his head.

"You idiot. You should have taken her back to your place."

"I didn't want to. It didn't feel right", Severus said.

"Why not? She's not nineteen anymore. She's what, Draco's age? Twenty-five? Twenty-six? I understand why you didn't go for it before, she was perhaps a little young... although from my experience young only means-"

"I beg you not to finish that sentence!" Snape said, shaking his head.

He hitched his trousers up from the thigh and took a seat on the armchair beside Lucius'.

Lucius swilled his brandy in the shallow crystal glass and Snape poured one himself, comfortable as he was at the Malfoys'.

"All I'm saying is that it sounds like she was a sure thing", Lucius said."I can't believe you walked away from her having only offered her a job and not a good seeing to."

"Piss off, Lucius", he said, but he allowed himself to laugh with his friend. "It doesn't matter anyway. She's with the Weasley kid."

Lucius scoffed.

"Well then, she's probably ready to be rid of the destitute little bastard."

Snape crossed his legs on the chair and glared at Lucius. Lucius rolled his eyes.

"Yes, you're right, I'm sorry", he drawled. "We're playing nice now, aren't we? Anyway, what does it matter if she has a boyfriend? You've hardly considered that an issue in the past, have you? If they come to you willingly, that's their choice. If they have a man at home, what business is it of yours?"

"She's not like them", he said. "She's different."

"Oh, Severus, don't be ridiculous. She's a woman like any other."

 _No, she's not,_ he thought. _Not to me._

"Leave him alone, Darling", Narcissa said, sweeping into the room with a chill, like a winter breeze; her hand wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. "Just because you navigate romantic relationships with all the subtlety of a Blast-Ended Skrewt, doesn't mean that Severus wants to do the same. Some men like to take their time."

Lucius brushed the wrinkles from his shirt sleeve, as he said, "don't be jealous, Darling".

"Oh, hush you", Narcissa replied, perching on the arm of Lucius' chair and needling her pretty fingers through his hair. "I'm only the slightest bit jealous."

"You know I'll always have a soft spot for you, Treasure", Severus said and winked at Narcissa whose reply came as pleasing laughter.

Lucius made a ridiculous gesture of deepest offence that they each knew was part of the play.

"I still sit wistfully at my window and miss you, my prince", she said, with a pout directed at Severus.

"I'm sat right here!" Lucius said with his mouth agape.

"Oh don't worry, my Darling", Narcissa sang, palming her husband's cheeks and kissing him on the nose. "Divorce is tacky. You're stuck with me for a long time."

"I can wait", Severus said with a wicked smile. "Lucius can't live forever."

* * *

 **AN:** If you, or somebody you know, was affected by the characterisation of Snape, Lucius and Narcissa at the end of this chapter, the following website may be able to help you.

www dot I had THE BEST TIME writing their friendship throughout this fic. Honestly, there is more where this came from and it only gets worse from here on out so hold on to your knickers... dot com.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN:** I love reading your reviews so much. You're all so funny, and smart and wonderfully kind.

* * *

8\. Sense

 **H.**

From the moment Ron arrived home, he droned incessantly about business at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Apparently, there had been some sort of mishap with one of their new products and their entire stockroom had fallen into chaos.

"Well, I'm glad you got it sorted", she said, as she folded clean laundry on the bed and he leant on the dresser and watched.

"Yeah, it's a good job that I was able to get there so quickly. George was in over his head."

He paused and for a second she thought that he was going to offer to help put the clothes away. Instead, he walked to the wardrobe and began pulling shirts off their hangers, deciding on what to wear the next day as he did every evening.

"I thought we could go out tomorrow night instead to make up for it?" he said.

"We're going to Grimmauld Place, remember? You promised Ginny that we'd take the baby for the night so that they could go out?"

"Right", he said, "Damn. How about Monday?"

She stuffed a folded burgundy jumper, crossly, into Ron's drawer and slammed it shut.

"You told George you'd work the late shift next week."

"Right."

She sighed her irritation.

"Ronald, just pick up a bloody jumper and help me?"

"I'm not a mind-reader ", he snipped, picking up a thin pink sweater. "You can ask nicely, you know?"

He lay it out on the bed and folded it, clumsily, into quarters.

"You're doing it wrong! It'll be all creased if you leave it like that."

 _You've seen me do this a thousand times, I swear you just don't bother learning how to do it properly, so that I don't ask you to._

"Sorry", he laughed. "You know I'm useless at stuff like this."

"Useless is right", she muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" Ron asked, dropping the sweater to the bed and turning to face her.

She swallowed.

"I said you're right. I was agreeing with you."

His ruddy face turned redder still.

"I don't think that's what you said."

Hermione let out a groan of frustration and began to shove the clothes into the drawers, without even bothering to fold them.

"That is what I said Ronald, whether or not you choose to believe me."

He sat on the bed and kicked off his shoes.

"Alright, Mum", he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I said... 'alright, 'Mion'"

"No you did not!" she snapped.

He gave her a droll smile and raised his eyebrows, ready to mock her; she'd seen that look before.

"That is what I said, Hermione, whether or not you choose to believe me."

She took a deep breath and tried not to lose her head. She'd known from the outset that he would be difficult sometimes, and she needed to learn to control her temper.

"Let's not go to bed on an argument again", she said, kindly, moving towards him with what she hoped was an open posture that offered forgiveness and a willingness to move on.

"You started the bloody argument!"

"It doesn't matter who started it."

"Yeah! Only when you're the one who starts them", he snipped. "If _I_ start an argument, you don't let it go. You're like a dog with a bone! Everything's my fault, all the time. Unless, of course, you can't find a way to hold me to blame, and then suddenly, it doesn't matter whose fault it is! It's nobody's fault!"

He threw his hands in the air as he got off the bed and grabbed his shoes.

"Do you know what... forget it. I'm going to stay at Harry's."

"Ron?"

"Nope", he said, pulling on his shoes. "Don't want to hear it."

"Ron! Come back!"

:

 **S.**

Hermione took her seat opposite him, cupping her mug of hot chocolate in both hands. She had clearly made an effort with her appearance, and she would occasionally stoke the nape of her neck. It was as though she wanted him to look.

 _Not fair._

He knew that having an understanding of the library's filing and reference system would be of great benefit to her, so he had brought along all of the notes he had made when he had first started. He'd almost thrown them out a couple of years ago, but he had decided to hang on to them, just in case. This was not quite the 'case' that he had anticipated - prepping Hermione for an interview - but he would not complain. It was nice to be around her again. In fact, he was beginning to quite forget why he had pulled away in the first place.

She ordered her second hot chocolate as he ordered his third coffee, then changed his mind and opted for water. The last thing he needed was to crash and burn sometime in the middle of the evening, since he was supposed to be joining the Malfoys for one of their dinner parties later. He felt his mouth open, ready to extend her an invitation before snapping it closed and scolding himself for his idiocy. He was falling back into old patterns, he could feel it. They were so familiar. As if no time at all had passed. But time _had_ passed. Seven damn years of it.

They weren't the same people. Time had a way of pulling you apart and moulding you back together, a little differently. Still recognisable, but not the same. But no matter how much people changed, _history_ did not, and those years had passed without contact, he thought, for good reason.

As the morning became the afternoon, and they shared a meal together, he started to suspect that their attachment was still as secure as ever. They still had the same humour, they still had their interests in common, but this time there was an understanding. This was a _professional_ undertaking. She was with Weasley. He was not interested in revisiting whatever they had almost stumbled upon before, just as he had been disinterested then. They were friends. That was all.

 _Just friends. It doesn't mean anything._

:

 **H.**

 _This is going well. It's not awkward. This could be the beginning of a good working relationship. A friendship even, or whatever it was that we had before we... I... messed everything up._

 _Yes,_ she thought, _we can fix this. We can return to what we had._

"Mr Stedman asks everybody what their favourite book is", Severus said, "and while there is no wrong answer, if you say something that is purely academic he will consider you boring. If you choose fiction, he will think that you are not engaged in academia. Do you see the conundrum?"

"So what should I tell him _is_ my favourite?"

"Tell him the truth, but be prepared to defend it. It is that discussion that will secure you a job more so than any qualifications or experience. If he likes you, you're in."

 _Well, I'm screwed then._

"I hardly make the best first impression", she said, and Severus' lips twitched, before a smile took over his entire face.

"No, I suppose not", he said. "I think it goes without saying that I was not your biggest fan when we first met."

She folded her arms.

"I was eleven! I wanted to please you."

 _I want to please you still._

"You were a smartarse!" he said with a low chuckle. "You couldn't keep your mouth shut long enough to learn anything. You thought that you already knew everything."

"Well, you weren't exactly the best teacher..."

Severus clutched his chest as though in agony.

"Ouch. You got me. Right where it hurts. My teaching ability!"

Hermione heard a roar of laughter, that took her a while to place as her own.

She hardly recognised it, and with a pang of sadness in her stomach, she realised what it meant that she was surprised by her joy.

 _When was the last time I laughed?_

:

 **S.**

Hermione flicked through the pile of his notes. She dropped her hair to the side and rubbed her neck.

 _Is she doing that on purpose?_

"What's this?" she asked, sliding a torn sheet of parchment across the table. "It was stuck between the pages. It's just numbers... are they dates? Or maybe reference numbers?"

As he took it and studied it, with a smile, he remembered.

"Not quite", he said. "I was given a book of poetry to catalogue in my first week, and I couldn't help but read it all, pretty as it was."

She raised her eyebrows and her lips puckered into an 'o'.

"You read poetry?"

"That surprises you?" he asked.

"A little, yes."

 _Good. I hope I continue to surprise you._

"Anyway, they're page and line numbers. So here '28-11' refers to page twenty-eight, line eleven. I made note of my favourites."

"Why?" she asked.

 _Tell her the truth. Watch for her reaction._

"Well... for a woman."

Hermione bristled and her lips twitched as though to frown, but her face remained still.

 _Interesting._

"And did she like them... the poems?"

He nodded.

 _All women love poetry, Hermione. That was entirely the point. And on the odd chance that they don't... they do enjoy the knowledge that you have thought about them._

"So, poetry, huh? What else are you hiding?"

Severus felt a buzz of irritation.

"I'm not hiding anything. We got to know each other under absurd circumstances. The person you knew... I'm not usually so... wretched."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head as though she hadn't understood a word he'd said.

"'Wretched'?" she repeated, shaking her head. "No. Moody and closed off sometimes, sure, but 'wretched'?"

 _Oh?_

"You were, at worst..." she said, rolling her eyes to indicate that this was not _her_ interpretation of 'worst' but his, "... vulnerable."

 _Yes. Precisely. Awful._

"And there is absolutely nothing wrong with showing a little vulnerability".

 _Beg to differ._

"Sure", he said, stiffly.

 _Vulnerable. Wretched. It's just semantics._

"It was nice to see a different side of you", she said. "You weren't at all what I expected. You were... well-"

"Go on..."

 _Don't stop there. I was what? Pitiful? Needy? Making a damn fool of myself?_

"I thought you were quite charming, truth be told."

"Yeah?" he said; he felt the smile on his lips and heard the pleasure in his voice.

 _Oh, cut that out._

"Mmhm", she said, and she began to flick through the pages of notes, without quite meeting his eyes. "Yes, I still think fondly of that time-"

She pressed her hand to her mouth as though she knew she had said too much. But it had been said all the same.

 _I miss it._

"Towards the end, I suppose it was rather agreeable", he said.

 _Agreeable? You sound like you're discussing a business arrangement._

"I am eternally grateful for what you did for me", he corrected.

 _And now you've swung too far the other way. Get a grip!_

"I was glad to", she said, and thankfully, the topic of conversation seemed to have reached a natural end.

She rifled again through the papers, then held the stack vertically and tapped them together on the table.

"I should get going", she said, as she looked at the clock.

"Yes. Of course. You have quite overstayed your welcome".

 _You see. You're fine. It doesn't mean anything._

"Your interview is tomorrow?" he asked.

She nodded and pushed the books and papers into her bag.

"Eleven in the morning. Will you be there? Do you want to meet up afterwards?"

 _Yes._

"My lunch break isn't until one."

She smiled as she pulled the bag onto her shoulder and he felt it like a kick to his groin.

"I'm sure I can kill some time", she said. "I'll wait for you."

 _It doesn't mean anything._

:

 **H.**

Hermione returned from her interview feeling pleased with herself. It had gone well, better than she had expected; all thanks to Severus. They had met for 'breakfast' they'd said, 'just a couple of hours', but she had stayed long past lunch. It was as though no time at all had passed, and yet, somehow it was seven years ago that Severus had stood on the landing, watching her with eyes like bullets. She was undressed, pink with the thought of being seen; hot with the knowledge that it was _Severus_ who saw her. It was the first time she'd really considered her attraction to him, but all at once, it was undeniable; so obvious, she couldn't believe she hadn't realised it sooner. So much had happened since then.

 _So why are those feelings resurfacing?_

As Severus had crept down the stairs, and she stood in her room looking at Ron - this man, this boy, who loved her - she felt her heart pulled from both sides. She made her excuses, rebuffing his romantic advances, deciding to sleep on her uncertainty. She woke with clarity the next morning and told him that she wasn't happy. He had pressed her to admit to the truth, because even he, clueless as he was at times, figured that her 'unhappiness' somehow involved Snape. She was attracted to somebody else, she told him. Nineteen was too young to struggle to make a relationship work, she told him. _Severus_ was not the issue. It was _them_. If it's not easy at nineteen, only months into a new relationship, it will _never_ be easy. Reluctantly, he had agreed.

And so the world had flung wide open. There was more to life than awkward kisses and pointless arguments. She had felt more excitement in those mere seconds with Severus than she had in years of fawning over Ron. She had returned for him to Spinners End, shaking and unsure what she would say, not knowing what would come next, but she had to _try._ But he wasn't there, nor was he home the night after, or the rest of the following week. She sent him two letters by owl, but the birds returned with regret in their talons; her heart returned to sender. She took her letters from their talons and burned them. She did not send a third. What could have been, never would. Whatever they had, was no more.

Even when she knew that she had no chance with Severus, she was steadfast in her decision. Ron sulked for a while, but they had found a way to be civil, if not friends. After eight months in her own company, she dated Matthew, a muggle boy. He was funny and exciting to be with, but he was not the settling kind, and so their flame flickered and extinguished fairly quickly. Ron had consoled her, and a lot of wine later, they had reconnected in his bedroom, and it was assumed that they were together again. They would break up months after, date outside the relationship and return once more to one another.

It was Cho's 25th birthday party that was the catalyst - bringing McLaggen as her 'new boyfriend' was indefensible. Suddenly, all bets were off. Ron was livid but he didn't make a scene. He waited until they were back at The Burrow before throwing things and cursing under his breath. He called her names and chucked out what was left of her belongings. Even though they weren't together, it was an unforgivable crime, he said. She had known it would be before she had even committed it. But she hadn't expected him to dismiss their friendship in so formal a fashion; like she was being fired from her position as member of the Golden Trio. Harry and Ginny were new parents. They were far too busy with baby James to concern themselves with so-called 'highschool bullshit'. And so they refused to pick a side, they said, which defaulted to Ron's side, given that Ginny was, first and foremost, Ron's sister and Harry? Ron's best friend. Somewhere near the bottom of their list of priorities, sat Hermione.

The centre of her universe had shifted and she was freefalling. Perhaps she should have taken the opportunity to find a different focus, but instead, she panicked. Her heart told her to run, but her head told her to stay. Ron agreed to give her another chance, her _final_ chance. If the relationship ended again, he would take his family, her friends - all of the people who loved her - and she would be without them forever. Of course, he had not said that in so many words, but she had understood the sentiment well enough. Ron had never been very good at hiding his feelings.

 _Trust your logic,_ she had told herself. _Your mind has never failed you. And it is logical_ , Hermione thought, _to stay with what you know_ ; _to stay where it is safe._

And Hermione Granger was nothing, if not logical.

* * *

Hermione turned from the mirror to face Ron who stepped out of the bathroom, dabbing his face with a towel.

"What do you think?" she asked, turning from side to side. "Do I look like a librarian?"

"You look fine", he said, throwing the wet towel on the bed.

"Ron, it's my first day. I want to make a good first impression."

"I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead", he said, with his foot out of the door. "Tell me all about it later?"

 _No kiss goodbye? When was the last time he kissed me? When was the last time he held me? When did we last say that we loved one another? Do we still love one another?_

:

 **S.**

Snape nodded at Hermione as he passed reception, and took the lift up to this office on the top floor. He'd specifically asked for this office, even though it was smaller than some of the others on offer, because it was a stone's throw from the balcony. He'd always wanted a balcony at Hogwarts, but since the Slytherin kids were dumped in the dungeons like prisoners, so was he.

 _Is it any wonder some of them turn into little terrors if you treat them like criminals from the moment they are sorted?_

Just past the balcony, was where he'd found the true hidden gem of the library; a staircase that led to the roof, from which he could see the whole city, and watch the world pass by. The whirr of the traffic, that sounded almost like running water. The bustle of people, tourists posing for pictures in front of buildings and businessmen and women hurrying past them - just blurs in their lenses. It seemed that nobody had been up here in years.

 _My secret place._

He flicked through the stack of papers his assistant had left for him on the desk, skimming the ones she had tagged with yellow sticky notes, and he signed all of the forms that she had indicated with blue sticky notes. How he loathed her fucking sticky notes; he often found them stuck to the bottom of his shoe, but it had been his choice to hire a squib, and sticky notes were a bearable punishment for his kindness. He left out a puff of air as he sat back in his chair with a mug of coffee in his hands, and put his feet up on the empty box he kept under the desk.

 _One of these days I'll get myself a proper footstool, like the one I had at Spinner's End._

He'd abandoned the place years ago. First, he crashed at the Malfoys' with Draco, both pretending as though _he_ was doing the boy a favour. But when Narcissa and Lucius returned from Azkaban, he'd rented a little one bedroom flat in Oxford, to allow them their space to reconnect. When he'd made and saved enough money to buy a place, he moved to the Cotswolds into a comfortable three-storey house in a muggle dwelling, near to the local wildlife park, because after a stressful day, he liked to watch the otters.

 _It doesn't mean anything,_ he would tell himself, as he took his seat on the bench beside their enclosure.

He rested his knuckles on his lips and concentrated on the files that were covered in pink sticky notes. Pink sticky notes meant that he had to pay attention. Yet all he could think about was _her_.

 _It's her first day. She loves a challenge. So why did she look so troubled?_

The far-away stare like she was deep in thought. The way that her body sagged over the desk. The dark circles around her eyes. The way that she looked at him, like she was just about to say something, before changing her mind and shifting back to her task.

At lunch, he approached her at the desk and without even attempting small talk - they were long past that - he lifted her chin and looked at her.

"You're not sleeping", he said. "What's going on?"

"Oh, I'm fine. It's just been a long week. I'll catch up on sleep soon."

"At your desk? I'm not sure that's good etiquette on your first day."

She laughed, at what he didn't know, because he was entirely serious, but all of the light returned to her face, and she was Hermione again; all golden sunshine. She ran her hands along the desk and he couldn't help but follow her fingers, as she curled them around a pencil and pulled a sheet of paper from beside her.

"I should get back to work", she said, and he lifted his gaze from her hands to her face and nodded.

"Meet me after work?" he said. "I want to show you something."

"I finish at six", she said.

"I'll meet you here?"

She nodded, and as her eyes moved across his face, hers returned to a state of sadness.

 _It doesn't mean anything._

"Okay", she said. "What is it you want to show me?"

"A secret place."

:

 **H.**

Severus left and she watched him walk away. How many times had she stared at his back, wishing that he would turn around to face her? Her hope was a candle that would not burn out, even though he had made himself perfectly clear, years ago. The injection of attraction into their friendship had been too much for him, she assumed. She had pushed him too far, she assumed. All she had were her assumptions, because she could not ask him and if she could, _would he tell me?_

But more than that, their 'will they, won't they?' would only ever exist in her head, because the real world that she knew was Ron's world too; they shared it. They had done so since childhood. To remove herself from his lifeblood would be to lose everything and everyone she cared about.

 _It was almost,_ she thought, _by design._ _Why do I have nobody in my corner?_

It was fleeting - too horrible to consider - and with a heavy sigh like a sob, she fell back into her desk chair.

 _I'm stuck. Which is fine. Totally fine._

But as she searched for reasons to stay, all she found were excuses to leave. Would she resign herself to misery again, simply because they did not know how to be apart? She was afraid, that was all. She could be brave, right? She was a Gryffindor, after all.

But as she arrived home from work and the evening wore on, the lion went to sleep and all that remained was her fear. She and Ron shared friends, history, savings; their home even. To end it, would be to walk away forever from all she had invested over fifteen years. For what? A man that may or may not want to be more than friends? She circled around again hours later; her thoughts wearing and heavy. She had never really felt like a Gryffindor. She had sat with the sorting hat on her head all those years ago, absolutely convinced that she would be placed in Ravenclaw. She had always felt more at home in that house, where people followed their sense instead of their sensibilities. They valued their brains instead of their bravery.

And where had being brave gotten her so far? Face to face with a three-headed dog? Petrified by a basilisk? In the crosshairs of a werewolf on a full moon? In the snares of a pack of Death Eaters? Three bloody times.

 _Lying beaten and bitten and bloodied on the floor of Malfoy Manor..._

She had been brave, hadn't she? When she had erased her parents' memories, only to find they were happier in their new life than they had ever seemed in their old one. She had been brave, hadn't she? When she had walked away from Ron to find her place in the world, only to find that she didn't seem to have one. She had been brave, hadn't she? When she had let Severus watch her. She had been brave when she had sent him the letters. She had been brave when she had searched for him. She had offered him her lion-heart, only to find that he did not want it.

No. Her courage had caused her nothing but sadness. Bravery now would only hurt her further.

 _Head? Or heart? Head or heart?_

 _Head,_ she decided.

 _But my heart? What will become of my heart?_

:

 **S.**

"Severus, you can't be serious!" Lucius said, as he waited for Snape to take his move. "How deep have you buried your head in the sand, for you to be _so_ in denial? I was in Azkaban for two years and when I returned you were hankering over the girl still. Now you're telling me that you have the opportunity... and you're squandering it?!"

Severus moved his black pawn to d5, and took a sip of his brandy.

"Unless... Severus, are you playing the long game?" Lucius asked, raising an eyebrow, and jutting his head towards the chess board between them. "Is that what it is?"

"It's not a game, Luce", Snape said and eyed his opponent as he moved his white pawn to c4. "And if it is, I have no interest in playing."

 _He wants me to take that pawn. I'm not going to._

"Rubbish! Romance should always be a game, and you should _always_ play. It is the greatest adventure in life."

"Easy for you to say", Severus sneered. "You have Narcissa."

"If you remember rightly, you had her first", Lucius said, with a proud snip to his voice. "Perhaps if you had tended to your relationship with a lighter hand, it might have blossomed."

"Alright, Lucius, no need to show off."

"I'm not showing off", he said, "I am giving you advice. Is it so difficult to believe that I have your best interests at heart? That I might actually care for you, old boy."

Snape smirked.

"I meant the game", he said, gesturing to the chess board. "You're about to take my bishop."

"Oh", Lucius said, and quickly snatched Severus' piece from the board and placed it to the side. "Right."

They grinned at each other.

"It's good to know that you care about me, though. I hadn't realised you'd gone soft in your old age."

"Oh, bite me", Lucius said, knocking over his king.

"You give up?!" Snape goaded. "Ah! The Malfoy way. Walk away when you are losing..."

"You know me too well, Severus", he said with a smile on his lips and a maddening little twinkle in his eye, "just as I know you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I am not so foolish as to believe that I can win", he said. "You are meticulous. You have played a thousand games in your head before I have even moved my pawn. You always think two moves ahead."

"It's chess. You're supposed to."

"And in life, Severus?" he asked. "How many thoughts do you have before you make a decision? How many conversations do you rehearse before you open your mouth? How many times do you consider the consequences before you act? How many moves ahead do you think?"

Lucius took a sip of his brandy and sat back on his armchair.

"Would you like to get to your point a little faster?"

"Love is a game and you have to play if you want to win", he said. "But, Severus, you cannot play it like chess."


	9. Chapter 9

9\. Slippery Slope

 **H.**

Hermione shared front desk duties with two other people. First, there was Simon, with slick blonde hair and milk-bottle glasses, who seemed to have taken the job without fully understanding that he would be working in a muggle facility, as every other conversation he initiated, concerned muggles and how _utterly fascinating_ they were. Not fascinating, in the way that Arthur Weasley found them fascinating, but in the way that you might stare at an ape in the zoo. Almost like you... but not... quite... the same.

 _Pureblood, probably._

The other was a muggle-born witch called Jessica. Jessica was only a couple of years older than Hermione, but she carried herself as though she held a lifetime of wisdom in her heart. She was self-assured and eloquent, and Hermione felt herself wilt in her presence. She wore her hair in its natural texture, secured with a floral, knotted headband. And as Hermione read through PowerPoint slides about the filing system, she watched Jessica from the corner of her eye. She was beautiful. Not just quite pretty, like Hermione was, but truly beautiful. It wasn't just in her face, although that by itself was a great source of jealousy for Hermione. It was the way in which she held herself - poised and confident. Both vulnerable in her manner and yet completely in charge of herself. Hermione was sure that she must have flaws - it was a biological certainty - but she couldn't actually see one to name.

And so, it did not surprise her, but it did _hurt_ _her_ , when Hermione looked up from the computer to see Snape approaching the girl and pulling her aside.

 _Stop it. You don't get to be jealous. You have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who hardly notices y0u, but a boyfriend nonetheless._

Severus held himself tall and proud as he spoke with her. She caught the odd word of their conversation, but not enough to form a complete sentence. Jessica laughed as she nodded, and touched him on the arm as they spoke. Hermione felt her blood grow hot and her cheeks flush red.

"... See you tonight, then", Severus said in parting and placed his hand on Jessica's shoulder

 _Well, I heard that._

Snape looked towards Hermione, nodded at her, curtly, and left them both to it.

:

 **S.**

Severus climbed the staircase to the roof, as he stepped towards the ledge, Hermione approached with a glass of wine in each hand. This was his favourite part of the day. Meeting her in their secret place after a long shift.

"It's Friday", she said. "I think we're allowed."

He grinned at her and nodded as he took one, and she sat on one of the deck chairs that he had transfigured from plant pots on her first visit to this secret place. He stood, leaning on the railing, and watched the world pass, and with a subtle, sideways glance, he realised that _she_ watched _him_. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his back pocket and placed one between his teeth. He offered one to her, as he always did, and she refused as she always had. It was a ritual, meeting here, discussing their day, and then when all was said, enjoying the silence of each other's company. She had a way of making him feel like he was exactly where she was supposed to be, even if they both knew that this secret place, would have to remain just that.

 _Our place. Our secret._

"So", she said, twisting around in the deckchair with great difficulty, exuding nonchalance so forced, it almost made him laugh. "How was your date?"

"What date?" he asked.

"Your date... with Jessica? Yesterday, I heard you say something about..."

She trailed off, as Severus' face broke with a pleased, wolfish grin.

 _Are you jealous?_

"Hermione, I'm not dating Jess. I _have_ never... and might I say, _would_ never... date Jess. She's Draco's girlfriend."

The relief on Hermione's face was palpable. He was warm with it.

 _She is. She's jealous._

"I spend a fair bit of time with Lucius and Narcissa. I've seen Jess there quite a few times."

She tucked a stray strand of hair into the elastic around her ponytail, but he thought that she might be using the action to disguise the pink of her cheeks.

"Sorry, I got the wrong impression", she said. "You looked cosy."

"Apparently they'd had a bit of a fight. I was comforting her. Loathed as I am to be supportive, I am capable of it."

Her face changed to one of confusion.

"Hang on! Jessica's a muggle-born? Isn't that like... against the rules?" she joked.

"Lucius and Narcissa were not pleased with it at all, at first. But they've come around. They're not who they were. Seven years is a long time."

"Yeah", she said, her gaze passing through him to the city below.

He turned to face her, resting his back on the railing, as he asked, "are you taking the Sleeping Draught I made you?"

She nodded, and cupped the wine glass in both hands.

"Then why do you still look like shit?"

Her mouth fell agape, and as his lips parted with a smile, she followed suit.

"You're awful, do you know that?" she said.

"That's what I hear. So, will you tell me what's going on, or do I have to lace your wine with Veritaserum?"

He locked his eyes on hers and raised his eyebrows defiantly. She shifted uncomfortably under the severity of his gaze.

"You're joking?" she said, trying to gauge his response.

He broke his stare, with a smile that went straight to his eyes.

"If you tell me, you won't have to find out."

She stood from the chair and joined him by the balcony. She didn't look at him; instead, she took in the view of the mass of people and mess of traffic below.

"Ron and I have been having some difficulties..."

"Right", he said, suddenly more uncomfortable even than she seemed, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"The problem is that we've been together for so long that neither of us is willing to admit that we're not really happy. You know?"

 _I do know._

"It can be difficult to know when to call it a day", he said. "I have found that sometimes a relationship will not reach its natural end unless someone severs the ties. Sometimes, you just have to let go and open yourself up something even better with someone else."

 _Someone like me._

 _No. Don't do that._

"Are you happy?" he asked, eventually.

He looked at her and took her hands to turn her to face him. She could not meet his eye entirely as she answered.

"I don't know."

"You should be happy. You are..."

 _... too clever, too beautiful, too lovely..._

"...too young", he decided, "to be unfulfilled. Think on it, Hermione. Do you want to be with him because you love him and he makes you happy? Or do you stay with him because you think you must?"

 _It's the latter, by the way. That idiot could never make you happy. The person you love at eighteen does not need to be the person you love for the rest of your life. I should know._

"Perhaps you could make it work as friends?"

Hermione shook her head quickly. She hardly had to think about it.

"No. We couldn't", she said. "If I walked away then it would be the end. No more Weasleys, no more Harry. All of my friends are Ron's friends first and foremost."

 _That's not healthy._

"And you're not willing to let that go in search of something for yourself? Something to call your own?"

She paused as though frozen in thought. Severus watched her face as she pondered. She seemed to flick through scenarios and possibilities. Her eyes closed, and Severus dared not breath until they fluttered open. A single tear rolled down Hermione's cheek and Severus felt the bite at his chest.

 _Yes. Do it. Leave him._

He caught his thoughts and his eyes flashed wide.

 _Do not start with this shit again. You made your choice._

She did not notice, and he took a deep sigh of relief that turned to a sigh of longing as Hermione leant her head on his shoulder. Moved by her vulnerability, he showed some of his own, and placed his hand on the small of her back. Hermione moved further in towards him until her head was on his chest.

 _Don't do it. Don't be stupid, Severus._

He chased away the thought and wrapped his arms around her in response.

"I know it's hard", he said. "Believe me. I know."

She lifted her head to look at him.

 _I could kiss her._

 _You'd better fucking not._

"Why are you humouring me?" she asked. "Given that you are... 'loathed to be supportive'."

"Because I care about you."

He'd said the words before he'd truly got a handle on what they meant, or how they could be interpreted. It could mean 'I am fond of you in the way you might be fond of a fine brandy.' It could mean 'I think a lot of you. I respect you. I want good things for you'. Or it could mean, what it _did_ mean for Severus.

 _I am never happier, or more myself, than when I am with you. I miss you when you leave. I hate thinking about you with the idiot. He does not deserve you. You should be with..._

 _No. Don't. You can't. You have made your bed. You're damn well going to lie in it._

 _You are far too smart to be acting like such an idiot._

:

 **H.**

She stepped back and searched for further explanation in his face. She saw his fear; he had said too much.

"You care about me?"

He cleared his throat and muttered, "of course I do."

 _Be brave, Hermione. Just not too brave. Remember what bravery has cost you._

She placed her hand on his.

"I care about you too."

 _I care about you more than I should. I carry my tenderness for you in secret, because I don't fully understand it. All I know is that my boyfriend has not touched me in eleven days and now I'm aware that I'm so close to you that I could kiss you and all I want to do is..._

 _All I want is..._

And then all at once, his hands were in her hair and his lips were on hers. His kiss was laced with red wine, deep, and dark. and careful. Every movement was deliberate and delicate. He placed his hand under her chin and she parted her lips to accept the kiss. He swept his hands down to her waist and thumbed circles into her skin, as his lips crossed her cheeks until his mouth was hot on her neck. The circles at his fingers became soft and gentle. It was as though he was soothing her, knowing before she did that _this_ could destroy her.

 _Ron._

Hermione pulled away and Severus dropped his hands to his side. If she couldn't see them, she would have sworn that he had his fingers wrapped around her heart. She felt the absence of his kiss as a physical pain; pressure in her chest.

 _What am I doing?_

She held her fingers flat against her lips as though she could hold his kiss just a moment longer.

 _Why do I want to do it again?_

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me", Severus said, as she dared to look at him.

"Yeah... it er- moved me too", she said.

He stepped back to the railing and nodded as though he understood, but he refused to look at her, and it seemed that he had said all he was going to on the matter.

"Should I go?", she asked.

 _Tell me to stay._

Snape busied himself by pulling the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one. He did not lift his head to look at her.

"Mmm".

 _What the hell does 'Mmm' mean?_

"I'm sorry", she said and felt her stomach begin to plait itself into knots.

He still refused to look up as he spoke.

"Don't be. I understand. Go to your boyfriend."

 _I... I don't want to. Give me a reason to stay._

"If _you_ want me to leave, I will".

 _Tell me you want me to stay._

"Hermione. Do whatever the hell you want. You do anyway."

"Severus?"

His eyes darkened, as he asked, "what do you want?"

 _You._

"I don't know, I don't want to leave, but I don't-"

Severus glanced up to meet her eyes, before returning to his lighter, that he flicked in his fingers.

"Just go", he said, with a note of dejection in his voice, "I shouldn't have. It was reckless of me."

"I don't understand. Are we... are we still friends?"

 _Or will history repeat itself?_

Hermione heard the weakness in her voice, and the stupidity of her question.

"This isn't friendship, Hermione!".

 _Ouch. Okay._

"Right... fine", she said, "but if you know what it is, then please, I'm all ears!"

"I wish I could tell you. But I can say for certain that I don't make a habit of kissing my friends. I'm sure Lucius is a very attractive man, but-"

He stopped as she smiled at him. Even now, he made her laugh. His laughter came in reply and he looked at her, from her face to her chest and then back again. For a second, she thought he had made a decision - a flicker of certainty in the fog of confusion - but just as she moved towards him to take his kiss again, she heard a sharp and deafening cough behind her. Both she and Severus turned to face their visitor.

 _Oh, fuck!_

"Am I interrupting something?" the visitor asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest and staring at her.

"Ron? What are you doing here?"

"Maybe start by answering _my_ questions. Would you like to tell me what's going on? Perhaps you could tell me what _he_ is doing here!?" Ron said, jerking his head aggressively towards Severus, who raised himself to full height and stepped forwards.

"I work here", Snape said, coldly.

 _Aaaand, I'm fucked._

Ron's face flashed a burning crimson.

"You work together?!"

He began to pace the balcony rubbing his temples with his finger.

"Ron?"

"Don't!" he snapped. "Give me a second to get my head around this!"

"I'm sorry! I know I should have told you. I just... I messed up, okay?"

"Messed up?! What are you talking about!? You _purposely_ failed to mention that you work with him. That is not a mistake, that is deceit. You swore that you wouldn't see him again!"

They both looked at Severus, whose eyebrows were more furrowed than ever she had seen them. His back was flat against the railing, but he was not afraid, he was bewildered, she thought, entirely out of his depth.

"I'm sorry, okay! I'm so sorry. I should have told you."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she cursed her body for betraying her.

"No!" Ron snapped, "you shouldn't have taken the job in the first place. Did you know he worked here?"

Hermione's eyes were to the ground, but they flitted for a second towards Severus, and then, with courage that she couldn't understand, she met Ron's eyes - those damn blue eyes that were once her home, belonged to a stranger.

"He got me the job", she muttered.

 _Not the time for honesty, Hermione. Jesus Christ!_

"What?!" he snarled. "How? You said that you wouldn't speak to him ever again."

"Our anniversary... the restaurant... he was there."

Ron looked back, over his shoulder at Snape and growled. Severus stood awkwardly aside, and she wondered what he was waiting for. An invite to speak? An explanation? A conclusion to their little drama?

"Our anniversary, Hermione, really? Was that my gift? Your betrayal. You said... no, you _promised_ me when we got back together, that you wouldn't speak to him again.

"We're just friends!" she yelled.

:

 **S.**

 _Just friends. Just friends. Just friends._

"What the hell is your problem, Weasley?" Severus asked, and the boy swung around to look at him as though for just a moment, he had quite forgotten he was there. "Why don't you want her to see me?"

"It's none of your fucking business, Snape", he said, spitting his name like a curse.

 _Sure sounds like my business._

Hermione looked to him, then, not at the boy.

"That night. Seven years ago", she said frantically. "The last time I saw you. I broke up with him. I told him..."

"Hermione, don't you fucking dare", the boy shouted.

 _Let her finish. Let her fucking finish._

"I told him that I wanted you. I came to find you. I sent you letters."

 _Letters?_

"I didn't... Hermione..."

 _Fuck! Letters?!_

"I was at The Malfoys", he said. "Draco was receiving so many fucking death threats that we shut down all communication ..."

"No!" Weasley barked. "I'm not going to stand here and listen to you make a fool out of me!"

 _The fucking ego on him._

The boy turned his pink face to Snape and glared at him.

 _You don't frighten me, you little shit. I've stared into eyes far more frightful than yours._

"Why are you still here?" the boy asked.

Severus straightened his back to pull himself to full height.

"Why do you think?"

The boy raised an eyebrow and then shook his head in irritation and turned back to Hermione.

"We're going to talk about this at home", Weasley said through gritted teeth, pulling on her wrist. "Come on!"

He watched the boy wrap his hands around her wrists, her beautiful fucking wrists, and she winced; it was too much.

 _Don't you fucking touch her. Don't you dare!_

He and Weasley both looked at Hermione, who had shrunk into herself. It was almost a cower. He wanted to leave, wanted to take her out of the situation. It took all of his strength to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground.

 _She's not yours to save._

But as the boy continued to pull at her, whatever sense he had to keep his temper, deserted him.

 _Don't care._

"Get your hands off her!" he snarled. "You're hurting her!"

Weasley held his hand out to stop Severus and it took all of his self-restraint not to snap it off.

"I'm sorry", the boy said then, switching quicker than a click of the fingers, and turning his back to look at Hermione. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean to. I love you."

 _Not yours. His._

He stroked her hair flat against her head and held her cheeks as Hermione looked at Severus, and then back to Weasley. He ran his thumbs across her cheeks to dry her tears.

"I love you", the boy said again.

"Love you too", she said.

It was quick and quiet, but it was true.

 _Not yours. Never will be._

 _I can't do this again._

 **H.**

"I love you", Ron said, and as he rubbed his thumbs across her cheeks, he stared at her expectantly.

 _This isn't right. This is a show for Severus' benefit. You might as well piss all over me and mark your territory. You've not told me you love me for months._

Ron raised his eyebrows, defying her not to say that she returned his feelings. They used to say it so often, it came as a reflex. 'I love you' - 'I love you too', that was how it went. There was no other response. His stare pierced her like daggers. 'Say it back', the stare said. 'Fucking say it!'

"Love you too."

She caught sight of Severus, just before he disapparated, and suddenly the world had turned upside down, and everything had fallen out of place. She surrendered to the grief in her chest and let Ron support her weight as her knees threatened to give way.

"Babe?"

 _Everything is a mess. My life is careering out of my control. Might as well lean into the skid._

She pulled away from Ron and looked at him. This man who had loved her for so many years. Her best friend for as long as she could remember. He made her angry, God, he drove her crazy. They fought like cat and dog. But they loved each other, didn't they?

 _Do we?_

"I'm sorry", Ron said, and the tone of his voice was so raw and truthful, it took her by surprise. "I over-reacted. I just... I don't want to lose you again. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I know", she said. "We have a lot to talk about."

:

 **S.**

Severus rolled his eyes at the pile of paperwork on his desk and seriously considered throwing it all into the bin. He drained his coffee and put the mug down on the pile, before realising his error and trying to brush off the coffee ring it left behind. He should have left it well alone, because trying to fix it, only made it worse. It had been all paperwork and no fun of late, and he'd not left work on time all week. Lucius and Narcissa had been busy restoring the west wing of their manor, and so for the most part, he'd been left to fend for himself. The closest thing he'd had to female companionship was one kiss and a lot of pining over Hermione.

 _Not pining. I don't pine. I'm a grown man. I want. I yearn._

 _Oh, who are you kidding? You're pathetic. You're pining. And if you're pining, then you have feelings for her. You swore blind that you had a handle on this. How did you let this happen?_

As he closed his eyes to better contemplate the absolute absurdity of his life, he felt his lids grow heavy and fought to keep them open. Just as he accepted that he might actually fall asleep right here at his desk, his office door swung open and jerked him back to consciousness.

"You've been avoiding me."

He blinked wildly at the figure in the doorway.

"Hermione?"

She stepped into the room and threw her bag on the chair. He found himself almost frightened by the look on her face.

"You've been avoiding me", she said again. "I know that last week was awkward for you, but it was worse for me."

"Why?" Snape asked. "What happened?"

 _Tell me you left him._

"I told Ron about our kiss, and I..."

Hermione's words began to blur until he could hardly decipher what she was saying.

 _She told him. It meant something to her then?_

 _Or did she tell him because it didn't mean anything?_

 _Wait? What was that? What did you say?_

"... not very happy with either of us. Me more so than you, obviously. He hardly looks at me."

"You're still together?"

Snape couldn't hide the disbelief and disappointment in his voice.

 _What the fuck is this? Why can't I keep my feelings to myself? Do I want her to know that I'm disappointed? I'm going mad._

 _Oh, I'm going mad._

:

 **H.**

 _Oh god. Don't look at me like that. How can I be sensible when you look at me like that?_

"Yes".

And then Severus' mouth became a straight line. There was not a trace of emotion on his face, as he nodded.

"Right. Of course."

I thought he'd end it", she said; surprised by her honesty.

"Okay?" he said, as he shrugged his shoulders. "Shall we pour the champagne?"

Hermione hung her head and shook it, leaning her shoulder on the doorframe. She watched as Severus stood up and walked around to the front of his desk. He placed his palms flat on the surface behind him, leant back and sighed.

"Hermione, did you just come up here to tell me that? Because, if so, I think we're done here…"

Hermione chewed her bottom lip and looked at Severus' boots.

"No, I wanted to talk about…"

 _Our kiss. I can't stop thinking about it._

"Look, I'm sorry but I have work to do-"

She shifted her weight, and as though the action knocked her off balance, she spoke almost involuntarily.

"I thought that he would end it. I know he's not happy, but he can't bring himself to admit that it's over."

 _Hypocrite._

"He wants to move past it. He wants to try to make things work."

 _He wants to punish me, more like._

"And what do _you_ want, Hermione?"

The silence was palpable as he stared at her, awaiting her response.

 _What do I want? What do I want?_

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears and she felt all of the blood rush to legs as her body screamed _'run, you stupid bitch_!' But the lion rose from its slumber, shook its mane and stared back into the black eyes that pinned her.

"What do you want?" he repeated, pushing himself off the desk and towards her.

Now his face was nothing but emotion, but Hermione couldn't pinpoint a single one and yet, she thought that she understood. He looked at her as though both of their lives depended on her answer.

Her lips parted, and she begged herself not to reply. But it was too late. Whenever she was asked a question, she answered by impulse. If she knew an answer, she had to give it. Such is the way of the know-it-all.

Her voice came so soft, so quiet, it was hardly a sound at all, as she said,

"You".


	10. Chapter 10

10\. Secrecy

 **S.**

"What do you want?"

"You", she said.

It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

So why did he feel as though he might vomit? All of his blood pumped into his head, and it shrieked as though it might split open. The world became nothing but background noise. This word, this one syllable, was what he had wanted to hear, all these years and yet now that he heard it, all he could think was _Lily!_

 _Lily! I loved her and she's dead._

 _Lily, I'm so sorry._

 _Lily is dead. She's dead!_

He started to shake his head as though the motion could clear the thoughts, but they dug their claws into his brain, into his heart, and all he could say was,  
"No. I'm sorry."

He couldn't look at her, but he could hear her humiliation, her rejection in her voice.

"Severus?"

He clasped his hand to his face.

"I can't do this right now."

"Severus?" she said again; her voice broken and trembling. "Please?"

All she wanted was an explanation and he couldn't give her one. It was his secret. He couldn't say it; had never said it to anyone. Only Narcissa knew, only _she_ understood.

"Don't tell me I'm alone in my feelings", she said; the words coming through stronger than before.

And the sound only served to weaken him.

"I should go", he said, fumbling in his pocket for his wand, his heart racing.

"You can talk to me", she said, wrapping her fingers into his cloak. "Whatever it is, we can-"

 _Lily. Lily. Lily!_

"I'm sorry. I can't do this right now", he repeated. "Can we finish this some other time?"

She dropped her hands, and without waiting for her reply, he swiped his wand and disappeared into the comfort of the darkness that pulled him apart; he landed on the Malfoy's Persian rug and screaming, he fell into Narcissa's open arms.

:

 **H.**

Hermione returned home that evening knowing that there would be nobody there to greet her. For the last week, Ron had slept on the sofa, or at Grimmauld Place. Most days he'd head back to The Burrow and Molly would mother him. Hermione was not welcome. She had known that Molly would struggle to be impartial when it came to low points in her relationship with Ron. After all, back in Hermione's fourth year, Molly had snubbed her at Easter when she thought she was playing with Harry's heart. And so, Hermione had anticipated that she would be icy-cold for hurting her precious boy.

But what surprised her, was that it wasn't just Molly. Ron's anger had spread like a plague until it appeared that everyone she knew had painted a cross on her door. She hardly saw him, and when she did, he did not acknowledge her presence. From the limited conversation they'd had in their five days of otherwise painful silence, she gathered that he was not yet willing to give up on the relationship, even though they both knew that it was long-dead, and there was no reviving it. For Hermione accepting that it was over, was the nail in the coffin of a life she was not yet ready to bury. And yet, she was dressed for a funeral and a ghost in her own home.

There was nothing left to save. Her fears had come true – she was, for the most part, completely isolated - and yet, she was still alive, wasn't she? The world had not ended.

As she lay awake into the small hours, something that Severus had said rattled around in her head, so loudly that she couldn't sleep.

Not just, 'no, I'm sorry, I can't do this right now', which was admittedly something that she had thought about so often that it was burnt into her memory. But it was something else he had said that bothered her now.

'You're not willing to let that go in search of something for yourself? Something to call your own.'

 _Something for my own. Something that is mine._

 _What do I want?_

 _Severus._

 _Other than Severus! What do I want?_

 _I want out. Harry and Ginny and Weasleys be damned. If they care about me at all, they will want me to be happy. They will come around. I deserve to be happy. With or without Severus._

After all, replacing one love with another - a sun, for a brighter burning star - still meant that Hermione orbited someone else. Even if Severus hung the moon, it was time, she decided, to take a chance on being the centre of her own universe for a while.

 _It's done. I can't take another minute of this madness. I can't even explain why I've put up with it for so long? It is time to remove myself from the tangled knot of my relationship. The next time I see Ron, I will tell him. It needs to be done right. Face to face. I want out._

But Ron did not return.

:

 **S.**

"Okay, love. Nice and easy", Narcissa said, stroking his back with her delicate fingers; he always found comfort in these arms. "Come on. Let's go have some tea."

She urged him into the dining room - the family dining room, not the formal dining room - and sat him on a chair. As he stared at details of the dark wood panelling that lined the walls, slumped onto his seat, he listened to Narcissa who chattered pleasantly to him, in soothing tones.

"It's going to be okay", she said. "Whatever it is, we will sort it. Okay, Severus? And if it's not something we can sort, then we will just sit here and get through it together."

"Lucius?", he said.

It was all he could manage, unable to bring himself to ask what he needed, but she understood him well enough. She always did.

"He won't be home for a couple of hours, love. Nor will Draco. We have time."

He nodded and leant forward, placing his elbows on the table and dropping his head into his hands.

"I've been so foolish."

"Impossible", she said, as she stepped towards him levitating a silver tray beside her. "Of all the men I have known, you are the farthest from a fool."

She handed him a china cup, that tinkered on its saucer, as he took it in his shaking hands.

"Have a couple of biscuits". she said. "They're good."

He took them from her, not wanting to disappoint, but he placed them on his saucer and dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Have you ever felt like you're doomed to make a mistake?" he asked.

She blew gently on her tea, holding the cup to her lips.

"Do you mean, that you know something will be a mistake, but you are resolved to make it anyway?"

He shrugged with one shoulder.

"Or are we about to enter into a philosophical debate regarding free will and determinism?" she asked. "Because in that case, I think I will take wine, instead of tea."

He smiled at her. Yes, their early years together had been a haze of smoke, red wine, a lot of pretentious conversation and even more posturing.

"I just feel as though I'm losing control", he said. "I know what I want, but I also know that to want it, is... madness. Have you ever felt that way?"

"A woman?" she asked, with a soft smile in her eyes. "… Hermione?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"Perhaps."

"Control is an illusion", she said, "and love _is_ madness, Severus. Do you not remember? Has it been so long?"

He watched the steam rise from his cup, coiling like a snake and he sighed.

"I don't recall saying anything about 'love'."

"Fine. Then, tell me, what _is_ the problem? What is the cause of your madness, Severus? What is it that you're afraid of?"

There was nobody else in the world that he would allow to ask him this last question, and she was the only one with whom he would share an honest answer. To delay his response, he took a gulp of tea that burned his tongue. He did not flinch. He had been quite pathetic enough for one day, and he was potentially about to become even more so.

"I presume that you remember Lily?" he asked. "You remember what happened to her?"

She gave him a rueful smile as she popped her cup back in its saucer.

"How could I forget, love?"

"I cannot", he said, emphasising the severity of his words, "live through that again."

"Severus. She is not Lily."

* * *

Severus ran his hand across the emerald velvet of the Malfoy's armchair and sipped at the brandy glass in his other hand. He was hardly paying attention to Lucius. He had arrived at the Malfoys hoping for some advice. He'd wanted to speak with Narcissa, really, but she was in the city with Draco. She was due to return at four thirty, and he found himself watching the clock, counting down the minutes. Lucius was a wonderful friend, but he was not the most sensitive, nor did he really understand the workings of Snape's mind. Not like Narcissa did anyway.

"So, you had a small meltdown?" Lucius said. "You can come back from this."

"And if I don't want to?" Severus asked.

"Well, that's irrelevant because you do want to. You're besotted. The boy is just a complication. I could always get him out of the way, it's been such a long time since I cursed someone."

Severus knocked back his brandy.

 _I'm going to need many, many more of these._

"It's not about Weasley anymore, Luce. I think she'll end it. It's me. I can't..."

"Get it up?" Lucius drawled, and Severus rolled his eyes. "I know you're not as young as you used to be, but there are potions if you need a helping hand..."

"Piss off, Lucius."

Lucius puffed himself up on the armchair and crossed his legs, one over the other.

"Fine. If you won't give her what she wants, I will."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Snape asked, rapping his fingers across his empty glass.

"Well, you have been with my wife... I think it only fair that I repay the favour."

Severus rolled his eyes as he poured himself another measure of brandy.

"I was with your wife long before you even knew her. Since I met Hermione _first_ , it's hardly an even trade."

"Ah. Perhaps you are right. If only I had met her first", Lucius said with a grin. "On an entirely unrelated note, do you happen to know where I might find a time-turner?"

 _Don't even joke about it._

Lucius' eyes flickered across Severus' face and took in its severity. He smiled a true smile; not his typical impish grin.

"Oh, of course", Lucius said, and he moved forward in his chair. "This one is different. I know that. She's not a plaything. Your little Muggle-born is off limits."

Snape scoffed as Lucius grinned and lay back in his chair.

"You're married, Lucius."

"Narcissa allows me a few transgressions", he said smugly.

"If she allows you your transgressions, it is only because she is having _transgressions_ of her own."

Lucius propped his feet up on a stool and folded his hands behind his head.

"Naturally."

:

 **H.**

Hermione tucked her wand into her back pocket and stepped out onto Diagon Alley. She wandered around the shops, knowing that there was nothing she needed, but hoping that she might find something she wanted.

 _Something for my own. Maybe a new book. Start small. Build up your courage._

She felt her heart leap into her throat as she stood outside Flourish and Blotts and stared through the window at the cardboard cutout that stood beside a pile of books on display.

'From Rags to Pitches: Becoming the World's Greatest Seeker' by Viktor Krum.

Hermione groaned.

 _Good god._

She considered buying a copy for Ron as a parting gift. If _he_ could be passive-aggressive, so could she.

 _No,_ she thought. _If you want to stand even a chance at salvaging your friendships, you must handle this correctly. When Ronald comes home, and he will have to eventually, I will sit him down and appeal to his better nature. He did have one once. No passive-aggressive gift-giving. No owls. No letters. No patronuses. God it's so tempting to end it by email. If only he knew what an email was. No. I have to do this right. Face to face. We will talk. It will end. And I will make my peace with whatever comes after._

As she stepped out of Diagon Alley, and down into Whimsic Alley, Hermione felt herself swept up in the excitement of a small crowd of people. She didn't know what was being celebrated, but a few wizarding families seemed to have congregated here for some kind of event. Bunting hung above her, from building to building, entwined with string lights. She'd never really explored Wizarding London, and now seemed as good a time as any to start.

She passed through Memori Alley, in which there were plaques and statues dedicated to past witches and wizards of note. Next was Origin Alley; that was all archaic buildings, surrounded by walls that could have been around since Roman times. Hermione's architecture knowledge was admittedly limited.

 _Severus would know._

As she stepped into Minim Alley, which was all but deserted, Hermione got the feeling that someone was watching her. By the time she had reached Frantic Alley, she knew for sure that she was being followed. She didn't dare turn to face the stranger, knowing that if she did, it would become real. Right now, she was simply in _potential_ danger, but if she turned to see her fears realised, it would become a legitimate threat.

She knew that she could disapparate, but as she recalled Yaxley clinging to her leg as she tried to apparate to Grimmauld Place, the fear crept into her bones until it was the only thing that propped her. She ducked into the doorway of a building that was closed and pulled her wand out of her pocket. All logic and rationality deserted her until she was left to respond with her instincts. She sought safety. She sought comfort. She sought Severus. Her hands trembled as she gripped her wand and shot out a Patronus, praying to the Gods that he answered.

:

 **S.**

Severus spat the brandy from his mouth with a burst of laughter.

"Jesus wept, Lucius! Do you have to be so brash?!"

"Honestly, Darling", Narcissa said, shaking her head.

Lucius placed his hand on his wife's thigh and pulled her onto his lap.

"I'm sorry, my sweet. I forgot that you're so sensitive."

She threw her head back softly and laughed her pretty song; her long, silver hair whipped onto the chair and fell in dainty ringlets. Everything she did was delicate and elegant. She was almost ethereal.

"Come on, Severus. Tell us", she said. "He'll behave, won't you, Lucius?"

Lucius' still held the trace of his laughter on his lips, but he nodded.

"I'll be serious. I swear it."

Severus swilled the glass of brandy and took a drag of his cigarette.

"I don't even know where I would begin", he said, confused by his inability to wrap his head or his words around how he felt.

"You have feelings for her", Lucius said with a pressed-lip smile. "You've had feelings for her for years. Do you love her?"

Snape shook his head.

"No. I do not."

Narcissa pursed her lips and with a flicker of her eyebrows, she told him, without a word, that she did not believe him.

"If I walk away now, I think I could do so relatively intact", he said. "So, I should nip it in the bud, don't you think?"

 _God, I'm going to have to quit my job._

Lucius grinned.

"Sure", he said. "You try that; see how well it goes."

He shared a knowing look with Narcissa.

"What?" Severus asked, impatiently. "What was that look?"

Narcissa lifted her wine glass to her lips and didn't say anything as Lucius puffed on his cigar and stifled a smile.

"Oh my God, will you just tell me?"

"It's nothing", Narcissa said. "We talk about you sometimes. Allow us our secrets."

Snape sat upright in his chair.

"Absolutely not. Tell me what you've been saying about me?"

"Oh, it's nothing untoward, Severus; you can wipe that hurt bunny look off your face. We just think that if you were going to walk away from her, you would have done so already. You've said it yourself. You're connected. You will always return to her."

"When did I say that?"

 _I remember thinking it. I don't recall saying it aloud._

Narcissa giggled behind her hands.

"Well... You'd had a fair bit to drink".

"Right", he said, dropping his glass onto the table beside him. "I won't be making _that_ mistake again anytime soon. Who needs enemies, huh?"

"Oh, come off it, Severus!" Lucius said, taking the bottle from the bar cart and throwing it at him.

He caught it by instinct and rolled his eyes.

"Listen to me", Narcissa said, moving from her husband towards Snape. "You can walk away. That's your choice. Perhaps it is the right choice, I do not know. But we both know that she is the first woman you've had feelings for in a long time. In fact, you went twenty years without ever loving someone."

"So...?" he said, stubbing out his cigarette and crossing his arms.

"So... you date women who you know you will never fall in love with", Narcissa said. "And whenever you do have feelings for someone, you close yourself off. You saw her with the boy and didn't speak to her for seven years. It doesn't make sense. It's as though you don't want to be loved."

She sat beside him on the arm of his chair and rested her hand on his shoulder.

"It's like you're... is it because we..." - she trailed off.

She thought over her own words and her mouth fell lightly open as though with understanding. As Snape opened his own mouth to speak, he reconsidered and snapped it shut. He looked across at Lucius and Narcissa's gaze followed.

"Don't beat around the bush for my benefit", Lucius said with a shrug. "My wife broke your heart. And you're what? Frightened it will happen again? Are you still cut up about how your relationship ended? You're still hurt by our betrayal?"

This wasn't their typical play. Lucius was dead serious, and it alarmed him.

"Luce, come now", Severus said. "I am more than happy for you both, as you well know. I just-"

"Then why, Severus?" Lucius asked. "Why do you pull away from those who care for you?"

Snape curled his hands into gentle fists. He was irritated, but not angry.

"I don't know!"

"Well I do, Severus", Narcissa said, prodding his shoulder. "It's to protect yourself."

"Right", he said, raising an eyebrow of doubt.

"You don't believe her?" Lucius asked. "You're transparent. You believe love to be a weakness. I don't know why, but you do."

 _Lily._

 _Lily! Lily! Lily!_

"Perhaps it was the mudb-"

Lucius stopped himself, gave an apologetic wince and then the twitch of a coy smile.

"The muggle-born", he corrected. "What was her name?"

"Lily", Narcissa said, and she looked at her husband with trepidation; Severus followed suit.

 _Where are you going with this? What do you know?_

"Yes, Lily. She died, didn't she?" Lucius said. "I believe you were fond of her."

Severus and Narcissa shared a momentary glance, before Narcissa dropped her gaze to her husband.

 _She never told him. All these years and she has not spilled my secret._

"Is that the reason?" he asked. "Because she died?"

Severus and Narcissa looked at each other again.

"Yes", Severus said, and Narcissa nodded.

But she knew as well as he did that this wasn't quite the truth. He thought that being in love was a weakness, no doubt. Now it had been pointed out to him, there was no denying it. But it wasn't _just_ because Lily had died. It was, in part, because of what happened while she was still very much alive.

"I never did understand why The Dark Lord murdered her", Lucius said. "He wanted to recruit her, after all. It made little sense at the time. Less still, now."

Narcissa moved as though to speak, but Severus shot daggers at her as though he could scream, without opening his mouth.

 _Don't you dare tell him!_

Just as Lucius settled back into his chair to ruminate, a silver burst of light from the courtyard caught Severus' attention. He pulled himself from his chair and rushed towards it as the otter charged through the grounds.

"Duty calls, Severus?" Lucius asked, as he returned.

He pulled his cloak from the back of the chair.

"It's Hermione", he said, and even he heard the strain in his voice. "I have to go."

"As I said", Lucius drawled. "You will always return to her."

:

 **H.**

She took his hand, her fingers between his, as he walked her into his home. She followed him through the airy hallway to the lounge that was moody in stark contrast. The walls were almost black, but the trim, the doors, and the ceiling were brilliant white. The floors were hardwood, dark walnut, covered with a black and white cowhide. The focal point of the room was the fireplace, which sat opposite an olive, leather Chesterfield sofa. One wall was book shelving, top to bottom, like in Spinner's End, only instead of the haphazard arrangement from before, the books were neatly categorised by colour. On the wall opposite, were black and white frames, neatly lined from the ceiling to the chair rail; all beautiful landscapes, no people. He led her to the sofa and suggested she sit and she did so without thinking. He handed her a blanket and a cushion from the velvet armchair and nodded.

"Tea or coffee?" he asked.

He smelled of cigarette smoke and his breath was sweet with brandy.

 _He's been with Lucius._

"Tea, please".

Hermione caught the cup of tea that moved into the room before he did. He followed shortly thereafter with a plate in one hand and a mug in the other. He placed the plate on the table - cheese, grapes and crackers.

With a gentle laugh, he said, "I'll cook for you, one day, I promise".

Hermione smiled and cupped the tea with both hands.

"Would you like to talk?" he said, and he sat beside her on the sofa.

He sat with a comfortable amount of distance between them, but he stretched his arm out on the back of the sofa and she was aware of his hand behind her head. When she didn't answer, he placed his hand gently on her shoulder. It came as a shock; warm and comforting.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded.

"Yes, sorry."

 _I shouldn't be here._

"Why didn't you want to go home?"

Hermione considered hiding the truth, but she couldn't create an excuse quick enough. The longer she spent crafting the story in her head, the more obvious it would be that it wasn't true.

"I didn't want to be alone."

 _There. The truth. Sort of. I didn't want to be alone, I wanted to be with you._

"When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?" he asked.

"Not for a while."

Severus nodded.

"Okay well, you should get some rest", he said. "You can take one of the beds, or you can stay down here on the sofa."

"I'm not all that tired".

 _Not entirely true. Not entirely a lie._

"Okay, then we'll watch something. I'll find something so boring that you're out like a light in no time. Shouldn't be hard. I've yet to find anything worth watching."

 _Why have a television at all, then? You're all talk, Severus._

:

 **S.**

Severus sat back on the sofa and settled on some documentary or other that was so incredibly boring, even he, who could find something of interest in even the dullest subjects, was bored stiff. He lay his head on the back of the sofa and felt, rather than saw, Hermione do the same, as her hair grazed his hand. He opened his hand and closed it, opened and closed, opened and closed, brushing his fingers across the side of her head. She didn't acknowledge it, but neither did she move away. She allowed him this small gift - both pretending that it meant less than it did. He felt her head grow heavy, and as her eyes closed, the opening and closing of his hand became gentle circles, until she was asleep.

 _Why did you come here?_ he thought, as though she might awaken and answer. Her body stirred, and he thought for a moment that she would, but instead, she rearranged herself in her sleep and began to sink in towards him.

 _Oh God. Don't. I can't take it._

:

 **H.**

Hermione awoke to the familiar smell of cigarettes and brandy, and she knew before she even opened her eyes that the mass on which she rested her head was not her bed. Neither was it his sofa; it was Severus. His chest, to be precise. As her eyes fluttered open, she saw the buttons of his shirt; the way he sat wrinkled the fabric so that she could see his skin through the gaps between buttons. Her fingers twitched as she imagined what it would be like to feel his skin beneath her hands. She needed to know, she needed to feel something, just for a moment. It didn't have to mean anything. Call it curiosity. She just wanted to know what he felt like _._

Before she had even a conscious thought, her hand was at his chest. His sigh underneath her, told her that he was awake. She slipped a nail under a button and popped it open and slid her hand between the fabric. She felt the beating of his heart increase and her own responded.

 _Stop, Hermione._

The next thing she felt was his hand at the small of her back. It was fixed to the spot as though he didn't dare to move it. Neither did she dare to make any sudden movements for fear that their embrace, innocent as it was, would become something more.

 _It's not so innocent,_ she thought. _You shouldn't be here._

As they sat in their silence, she became aware of her body and its response, its ache from its centre; her chest, her stomach, her core. And as though her irrational fingers moved independently, they began to stroke his chest. Just tentatively at first, but when she felt his hand respond in kind on her back, she allowed the fingers to remove themselves entirely from her sanity and unfasten a second button.

* * *

 **AN:** Does anyone else have that taste in their mouths? It's kind of tart... like, erm... lemons.

But you know, I've always found lemons to be both sharp and pleasant. You might say... bittersweet.  
[Looks into the camera like I'm on The Office]


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:** Smut incoming!

I know it's not for everyone, but for all those who plan to stay for the ride, you had better buckle yourselves in and I would ask that you please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times.

* * *

11\. Self-Sabotage

 **S.**

 _I could touch her. God how I want to touch her. I could just lift her shirt and put these greedy fingers on her skin. I could trace her curves; feel her prickle at my touch._

Severus felt his cock throb between his legs, and as he rearranged himself, he unintentionally moved her closer into his chest. It was then that she looked up and dropped her hand.

 _God she's beautiful. It's not fair. She's so close and yet, there are worlds and leagues, and so many years, between us._ _She knows - she must. You've hardly been subtle._

His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to undo him; threatening to kill him.

 _Could you want something so much, that your entire body just ceases to function in its absence?_

He leant back in the sofa, and his breath hitched with a silent, clipped groan as she followed onto him. He tried to gauge her reaction, but her face was still and expressionless. Yet he could feel her heart, quick and restless as his own.

 _She knows what I want. And she stays._

It was then that she shifted her body so that she sat on her knees beside him. For a moment he thought she might kiss him. Instead, she studied his face, as though she too, searched for a reaction. Neither wanting to be the first to make a move.

 _She's here with you, isn't she?_ he thought. _She is here voluntarily. She called you. Not her boyfriend. You. She wants you._

And then she took all decision from him, and he felt something clutch its fingers around his heart and dig in its claws, as she kissed him. A single kiss on the corner of his mouth. The greedy voice, the one that awoke whenever she entered a room, or he heard her laugh, came in a rush from a depraved corner of his mind. _Touch her,_ it said.

 _Touch her. Touch her. Touch her. Now. Do it now._

In a foolish rush of desperation, Severus moved one hand from where it sat rigid on his knee, wrapped it into her hair and kissed her, calculating the momentum so that it was cautious but not casual. Never casual. They were long past that. Her lips were warm and sugared with tea, and her tongue...

 _Oh God, her tongue. She's kissing me back._

 _What fresh hell is this?_ he thought. _No. Not hell. Heaven. She wants you._

He wrapped his arms around her waist and she moved into him, placing her hands on his chest, sliding her fingers underneath his buttons until his shirt was undone. He saw her eyes cross the scars, faded over the years, but still prominent; still ugly. He lifted the back of her shirt in the form of a question and when she did not stop him, he placed his hands flat to her back. He whispered a hiss as he felt the warmth of her skin beneath his lightly calloused fingers.

Still, she looked at the scars, and he wished more than anything that he had thought to use a spell to hide them from her view. But he hadn't known; hadn't anticipated any of this. She leant forward and rested her head on the inky thicket of his chest, placed her hand on his shoulder, and he felt a buzz across his skin as she kissed his scars. She started on his chest, then she kissed his shoulders and collarbone. Her mouth traced the ugly marks all the way across his neck, up to his throat and then once again she met his lips and he parted his to meet her.

And then, just as quickly, she pulled away.

:

 **H.**

 _I shouldn't be here. This is unforgivable._

"I should go to bed", he said, and his words broke their self-made silence.

As he left, Hermione felt the shame of her situation, knowing that she had crossed a line. Her relationship was all but over, but she owed it to Ron - to their seven years together - to formalise it.

 _He doesn't want you. Severus wants you._

Her guilt came as an ache. Her longing for Severus burned hot. She stood in the centre of the room, staring at the shelves of books, her fingers to her mouth, trim to her lips, holding the memory of his kiss.

She heard him before she felt him. His footsteps into the room were as unsure as she was, but he stepped towards her anyway, bridging the gap between them. She felt his hands on her waist and she lifted her shirt as an instinctual reply.

 _Yes._

As she dropped the shirt to the floor, he stepped in behind her, so close that she could feel him, hard at the small of her back. She raised her hand, still not daring to turn to face him, and scraped her fingers into his hair as his kiss came at her neck.

She felt an unfamiliar shiver of anticipation rush through her core, as Severus' hand shifted round from her waist to her chest. His hand slipped into the cup of her bra, gently, as though waiting for an invitation that she had sent years ago. His touch swept across her breasts, and together at her stomach, and then, as she unfastened the buttons of her jeans, his hand settled between her legs.

 _God. Yes! Damn me, I don't care. I'm yours._

:

 **S.**

Severus moved as though by instinct, and swept his hand up to her breast, as the other dropped; seeking her heat like a damn missile. He caught himself in time, and slowed, skipping past her pleasure, walking his fingers across her mound. He thought he heard the gentle pop of her parting lips. She sighed and moved further back into him, urging him closer to where she wanted his touch.

The combination of that glorious sound, simple as it was, and the motion of her body into his, sent a tremor through him and his dick twitched in response. She let out the gentlest of laughs and he felt the rise and fall of her chest build beneath his fingers.

"Yes", he murmured; his voice a muted sigh. He hoped she hadn't caught it.

 _Don't ruin it now, Severus. Don't say a word. Don't talk. Just act. Give her what she needs._

Her head rolled back and her hair grazed his throat. He remembered with a pang of sorrow and a stab of exhilaration how she had cared for him when that damnable snake had struck him in the very place that she now rested her head.

 _Her beautiful fucking head._

Severus dropped his own and freckled her hair with kisses; it was sweet with something like lavender. She pulled her hair in front of her chest and moved her hands behind her back and began to fumble with his belt; her fingers tripping over their urgency. She stood tall, and rested her head on her shoulder so that the nape of her neck was exposed to his mouth. He couldn't help himself. Not anymore. He felt an ache of sorrow in his chest that he couldn't explain.

 _I need more. God, even the smell of her. Does she have any idea what she does to me?_

He brushed his lips across the gooseflesh of her neck and dropped his hand from her breast to her stomach. She sucked in her gut as if by impulse, and he stoked the grooves that Bellatrix had made. He hoped, where there was no hope, that the kindness of _his_ touch could begin to undo the violence in _hers_. A soft wave of warmth and affection shifted through him. If only he could hold her this way for the rest of his miserable life.

 _No. This isn't right._ He thought. _This isn't how it's supposed to go. It's sex. Just sex._

Severus let out a throaty sigh.

 _You idiot. Did you really think that you could just walk away from this unscathed?_

Hermione lifted her hands behind her and ran her nimble fingers through his stringy, long, black tresses and clutched tight. She turned her head just a fraction so that she could kiss the bristle of his chin, except she didn't kiss, she bit - gentle but hungry - and it was the signal he needed, if ever there was one, that she was wanted his touch as much as he wanted hers.

She let out a long and lovely moan as his fingers made his contact and, to his surprise, she placed her hand on top of his to show him what it was that she liked. She drew a sharp breath and gave a happy sigh on the exhale. In an instant the soft wave of his affection was a crushing tsunami that flooded him, threatening to pull him under.

 _What a strange and divine way it would be to go._

Severus felt the ache again in his chest like something was had taken its seat upon it, and his breath caught on the sharp edges of whatever had nestled itself in his heart. He just had to keep his head above water.

 _This is it, isn't it? This is what poets talk about. This is the surge behind their sonnets. It is this that drives them to madness._

:

 **H.**

She threw her head back as his fingers found their purpose. A moan of delight escaped her lips and she fought to catch it; desperate to return it to the pit of her belly where it belonged. The sound seemed to move Severus and he began to perform small miracles on her clit. She put her hand on top of his, to guide him, so that the small miracles became sweeping revelations. Pleasure fluttered through her core and landed somewhere in her stomach. Severus was not the kind of man to give you butterflies, but perhaps Silkmoths flickered inside her.

 _Oh, wow._

Severus took his other hand to her hair and bound it hard in his fist so that he could kiss her neck, her throat, her chin, her cheek; her mouth. She kept her eyes firmly closed. She didn't know why but it felt as though she should. He let the fingers at her sex quiver, playing her like piano keys, before casting them up to her cheek and turning it to draw her lips closer to his. He deepened the kiss and when he pulled away, her eyes flickered open for just a second. It was long enough to take in the blur of black and silver, in stark contrast to the peach and russet she knew.

This man was something else entirely. It had never been like this before. Not with Ron, or McLaggen, nor with Viktor before them. Severus knew exactly how and what to feed the gnawing hunger, and she was starving.

He dropped the fistful of her hair and ran his coarse hand over her breasts. Her nipples puckered at his touch and he let out a breathy moan that sent another thrilling nip of need through her core and she felt it splinter through all of her nerve endings; fingertips to toes.

 _I can't wait anymore._

Hermione pulled again at his belt, and Severus tugged down his trousers, knowing what she wanted, what she needed, without being told. She kicked off her own and he guided her down onto the sofa without ever turning her to face him. He pushed aside her knickers, and as she opened her legs in invitation, Severus groaned behind her.

 _God. That sound. Make it again. Yes. Again._

Hermione guided him to her slit and he scattered beautiful kisses along the line of her back. She felt his cock at her entry and she moved her hands to help guide him, but he did not need it. His fingers clutched at her waist and she twitched as he brushed his head against her clit, to tease her. She released a moan of satisfaction as he found his pleasure, and pushed his way into her heat, and speared her until she was full. He let loose his own returning groan, long and low and sudden, that came almost as a sob.

As he wrapped his hands around her stomach, she thought she heard him whisper, "beautiful".

 _Yes, you are,_ she thought in reply. _You feel so good. I never imagined this could be so…_

:

 **S.**

 _Incredible._

 _Fuck. She's incredible._

Severus moved his arm around Hermione's stomach and again she pulled in her gut.

"Beautiful-" he breathed.

It was just above a whisper, but this time she heard him.

 _Shut up! Do not speak, you idiot. Speak and you will break her from this fantasy._

 _Oh God, that's good._

Hermione moved her body back into his, so that she enveloped him. Gripping her waist, he aided her movement. When she picked up her pace, he too quickened, thrusting himself into her with deepening strokes. He ran a very thin line - he wanted desperately to wrap his arms around her possessively, turn her to face him and fuck her until she was his, but he didn't want to hurt her, or scare her, or ask too much.

 _You old fool,_ he admonished. _You already ask too much._

He didn't want her to break away, as she had done with their kiss. He didn't want to have to walk away as he had before. He did not know if he could return for her again, no matter what Lucius said.

Hermione extended her body as she knelt, her hands flat against the wall. He was strong and rigid inside her still as he crouched down on her and drove hard inside. He dropped his hands to her clit as he had before, grateful for the first time that his limbs were so long and slender. His fingers reached her and she bucked into him.

 _Please God, let her do that again._

Hermione began to mewl fiercely below him and he felt his cheeks grow hot. She rocked back into him and then straightened her body and he ran his hands across her breasts. How he longed to see them. But to face her would break the unspoken rule. He knew it. _She_ knew it. She arched her back and he moved in kind, cradling her body underneath him.

 _I can't hold out much longer. Not like this. Not with you._

He kissed the plains of her back and ran his tongue along her spine. Her rasp of satisfaction spurred him on to thrust harder.

 _Fuck, I can't hold it... I'll make it up to her afterwards._

Severus braced himself, curled himself down onto Hermione, clutching his bony fingers into the softness of her hips. He lost his rhythm.

 _Fuck no. Not yet. Oh God. Oh-oh-oh._

He pushed himself in his entirety into her beautiful hollow for one last time. The triumphant wave he was riding broke and a low, feral howl fell from his lips as he came apart inside her. But his pleasure was short-lived, and as he felt Hermione's body stiffen in his arms, he pulled out of her.

 _Please. Let me die now. Whatever is next I don't want it. Don't take this moment away from me._

Hermione lurched forward and grabbed her jeans, her head fixed at the window. He wondered what she had seen.

 _Perhaps she saw her reflection. Nothing like a good hard look in the mirror to remind you of your stupidity._ _What the fuck do I do now?_

 _She'll go back to the idiot and you'll be alone, again. All because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself._

She didn't look at him as she pulled on her shirt; she couldn't hide herself inside it fast enough. eHHe stared at her, longing to read her face; to understand this reaction. Then, without even lifting her head, she stepped out of the room.

 _Wait. Where is she going? No, please. Please don't leave me again._

 _You're in trouble, old man. Oh, you're so fucked. How will you ever live without this now that you've tasted it? Nothing will be like it was before. There's no going back to how things were. This is final. This is fatal. There will be no making it up to her. You're fucked. You idiot. You're fucked. You're fucked!_

 _Fuck off, Lucius! Oh God, what have I done?_

Severus clutched his hand to his chest as he heard the front door close.

 _Not again. Don't leave me._

:

 **H.**

 _Oh god, oh god. He knows. How the hell does he know?_

Hermione pulled on her clothes and ran to the door. The little owl sat on the wall outside Severus' house with a red envelope in its beak. As she reached out her hand to take it, the bird nipped at her fingers and fluttered its wings. She snatched her hand away and studied her fingers. He had thankfully not drawn blood, but he'd left his mark all the same. Pigwidgeon puffed up his chest and screeched at her, before he buzzed his wings again and took flight. She took the howler into the house and sat on the stairs with it in her hands, not daring to open it. Knowing that ignoring it would make it worse, and not caring.

 _It couldn't get any worse._

:

 **S.**

The thing that had its fingers around his heart squeezed tighter as he pulled on his trousers and stepped towards the window. He couldn't see anything except his face. Sallow and old and ugly.

 _What is this? Why does it hurt? My chest. Stop it. Make it stop. Come back. I'm sorry. I don't know what I've done but I'm so sorry._

Again Severus felt a pang of pain through his chest.

 _It's just distress - emotional distress - you are fine. You are not dying. Not today._

He told himself this when the panic would rise. And it still did from time to time. Severus pulled on his shirt without fastening it, and stepped out into the hallway. Hermione was sat on the stairs with her feet tucked under her. Her head was in her hands.

 _Thank god. At least she's still here._

He sagged with relief as he approached her, but when she lifted her face, he saw that she was red and sticky with tears. She hung her head again and her mess of curls fell over her face. He could not see her anymore and he did not know whether that was a small mercy or a crying shame. He tentatively sat on the step below her.

"Hermione?"

The sound seemed to rile her, and she broke into sobs that wracked her tiny body. He placed his hand on her arm but she pulled away.

 _Oh fuck. You fool. You bastard. What have you done to her?_

"Hermione. I'm sorry."

She shot her head up and stared at him, her eyebrows were furrowed.

"What? Whatever for? You didn't do anything wrong", she said, as she handed him a red envelope. "I'm the one who's screwed everything up."

"A howler?" he asked.

"God I've been so stupid", she said. "I can't believe I let this happen."

 _Welp. That hurt._

Hermione traced his face, and although he desperately tried to hide the devastation in his eyes, he knew that she'd seen it.

 _I lied to The Dark fucking Lord for over two decades, and yet now I stand here unable to wear my heart anywhere other than my sleeve? Couldn't have hidden it_ _ **up**_ _your sleeve? Decided to stop hiding how we feel now, have we? Brilliant timing, Severus. As ever._

Hermione took hold of his balled fists and cupped them with her warm hands.

"Oh God, I'm sorry", she said.

"Sorry you hurt my feelings? Or sorry you fucked me?"

Her eyebrows drew together and her entire face fell into sadness.

 _Shame more like._

"Severus? Don't be—"

"What? Are you going to lie to me and tell me that you don't regret being with me?"

 _I was wrong._ _ **This**_ _is tragedy._ _ **This**_ _is what drives the poets mad._

"No… not regret, but, I don't know. I didn't want it to be like—"

"You didn't want it?" he asked, his eyes wide now and he heard the crack in his throat betray his heartache.

"Oh God, Severus, no. That's not what I meant at all", she said, wrapping her fingers around his neck. "I'm so sorry. God, I wanted it – I wanted you."

 _I don't understand._

"I meant the howler. Ron. He—"

"You dare say his name?!" he flared.

He heard the spittle in his voice and felt himself stand tall. He wondered if he frightened her.

:

 **H.**

 _Oh wow, was I wrong. It could be worse. It could be so much worse._

"Severus? I—"

"Go to your boyfriend, Hermione", he said, spitting the word 'boyfriend' as though it was gristle in his mouth.

She stood to full height then, and squared herself up to him, defying him, daring him to walk away again. It would take more than a tall man with a loud voice to scare her off.

 _And I'm not afraid of a howler either. Fuck it._

Hermione slid her finger under the lip of the envelope and opened it. Ron's voice echoed around the room. Thundering and terrifying.

"GET BACK HOME RIGHT NOW, HERMIONE. HOW DARE YOU! SNAPE?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?! SEVERUS FUCKING SNAPE?! YOU'RE WITH THAT GREASY GIT WHEN YOU SHOULD BE HOME WAITING FOR ME?! GET BACK HOME NOW!"

 _How does he know I'm here?_

She looked at Severus and she couldn't make sense of the expression on his face, but she felt her heart break at the sight.

"I can't do this", he said, and Hermione felt the chill of his words as a physical pain.

She placed her hand on his chest but he pulled away and stalked up the stairs, but she followed right behind; leaving him with his space, but he would not walk away from her again.

"Severus. He's posturing. Our relationship is dead. That was for your benefit, not for—"

"Stop", he said. "Just stop."

"Will you let me finish a damn sentence?!"

He advanced across the landing.

"Severus Snape!" Hermione snapped. "Stop walking away from me. Talk to me! I'm right here."

He spun around on his heel.

"Fine!" he flared. "I'll talk to you. Why did you come here?"

"What? Because you invited me."

"The real reason", he said, his voice was cold.

"I told you. Someone was following me."

"Don't be an idiot", he growled, rolling his eyes as though he truly believed that she was. "Why did you call for _me_ in the first place? Why didn't you call on your little boyfriend?"

"You know why…"

"I need to hear it."

"Because I'm weak, okay? Because I _am_ an idiot. Because I fucking... can't... stop... thinking about you, Severus. Not for a second."

:

 **S.**

 _She feels it too._

 _Oh God. It doesn't feel better. It hurts all the same._

He couldn't bring himself to say anything. What _could_ he say? She threw her hands in the air.

"Look, I need to deal with this. I have to go speak to Ron. I just hope that everything isn't ruined."

 _No. Hermione. Don't say that. Stay here with me._

"Do you need to speak with him now?" he asked.

"It's the right thing to do, isn't it? I owe him a conversation", she said. "Whatever has happened, he's still my friend and I love him."

He felt a stab through his heart with a thunderous pain like a thousand crucios. He _would_ take a thousand crucios over this any day. He'd be grateful to each one for being less traumatising than having your heart stomped on, in the afterglow of sex when you still have a fucking semi perked up under your trousers.

 _I'm going to be sick._

' _I love him'. 'I love him'. 'I love him'._

 _Lily._

' _I'm sorry, Sev, but I love him.'_

His eyes pricked with tears and he growled as he wiped them with the back of his hand. She stepped towards him and placed her hand on his cheek. It was warm and beautiful and it hurt.

 _God it all fucking hurts._

 _Oh no. Oh shit. No._

"Talk to me", she said. "Please?"

He cleared his throat.

"It's fine. Go to Weasley, Hermione", his voice came in its rightful tone. "I'll be seeing you, okay?"

Hermione nodded, and followed him down the stairs to the living room where she grabbed her things, and made for the fireplace. She drew out, quickly, made towards him and kissed him on his cheek, her hands in his hair. And then her kiss came at the corner of his mouth and then his lips. He rested his forehead on hers and took in the smell of her hair – lavender. He'd never forget it.

 _Oh, you really are a fool, Severus._

He closed his eyes and let the feeling of her lips on his linger, even after he felt her move away and heard her step towards the fireplace.

 _You're in love with her._

"I'll see you soon", she said. "I'll send you an owl or something? We'll speak soon?"

 _No. We won't._

She waited a moment for his reply, but he did not give it.

"Severus? Is everything okay?"

He shrugged with one shoulder.

"Don't you worry about me."

Her face contorted into one of confusion, or concern.

 _Don't look at me like that. Just leave me._

"Do you want me to stay?"

 _Yes._

"No, I'm fine."

He turned his back on her. Turned his back on her just as Lily had turned her back on him. Just as with Narcissa. Just as he had with every woman who had ever gotten close to him; every woman who had ever shown him true affection. Severus Snape did not love. He couldn't love. Not anymore. Lucius was right. It was a weakness. He would never be weak again. But if she stayed? If she walked out of the fireplace and into his arms, he might be so tempted to surrender to weakness and make himself at home.

 _No. Don't leave. I changed my mind. Please don't leave._

He stood just outside the doorway; his heart in his throat. He heard her say "home", and with a blaze of fire, he knew that she was gone.

"Fuck!" he roared, throwing his fist into the door.

 _Fuck!_

 _Why does everyone I love leave me?_


	12. Chapter 12

**AN:** This is my favourite chapter. I think the first scene was the most fun I've ever had writing something. My new OTP is Drunk Narcissa/Teenage Severus. Is there a community I can join, or?

Also, I don't think it's a thing in the US, so for those who don't know, Snakebite is a common UK drink (half cider, half lager) it is typically served with a dash of blackcurrant cordial, which is known as Snakebite and Black.

Okay, have fun, love you all, byeee!

* * *

12\. Snakebite

 **January 1978**

 **S.**

The girl with ice-white hair, and skin just as cold, lifted the sleeve of her robe and whispered into the thick frizz of black hair of the girl next to her. It wasn't truly fair to call them girls. They were women. Older than he, anyway, at just turned eighteen. But the way in which they giggled and whispered made them appear far younger; like school girls. The blonde wrapped a lock of hair around her finger as she flirted with the barman who dropped another free shot in front of her.

 _Yes, definitely older, but probably by only a few years._

The scrawny black-haired one was the eldest, he could tell, because her eyes were sunken into her skull and she dominated the smaller, younger one. He assumed that they were related because they shared the same haughty beauty. Perhaps cousins?

"Sissy", said the dark-haired witch, and the fair witch turned to face.

 _Sisters then?_

"Sissy, I know he says his blood is pure, but I don't know that I believe him. We can't even be certain he's half. What sort of a family name is 'Rogers'? That's a muggle name if ever I heard one. Ending the relationship was the right call."

"It wasn't just that", the fair witch said. "He was quite scary, truth be told."

"Then it is a good job that you are well-protected", her sister said with a greedy little grin. "No harm will come to you now."

Severus moved towards the bar so that he could make his order, and of course, hear them better. He'd never been much of a drinker, so he didn't know what to order to impress them. He browsed the menu and settled on something called a 'Snakebite'; half cider, half lager. Half and half. Like him.

"You know that's better with black", the fair witch said, turning away from her conversation to engage him.

Her lips curved into a coy smile and the dark-haired witch cackled beside her. Suddenly she was not so pretty. In fact, she made him feel uneasy. He knew by instinct that this was a dangerous witch. The blonde was less stern in the face, and so he turned his question to her.

"What's so funny?" Snape asked.

"Black", she said with a wink. "It's our family name."

 _Black?_

Severus felt bile rise in the back of his throat. He couldn't disguise the disdain in his voice.

"Black as in... _Sirius_ Black?"

"Our cousin", the blonde said bitterly.

"Blood traitor!" the black-haired witch barked.

"So you don't like him?" Snape asked, and felt the twitch of a smile in the corner of his lips.

"He is dead to us", the elder said. "And you? Is he a friend of yours?"

"Pah! Not in the slightest. I despise him."

The blonde placed her hand in front of Severus as he pulled his wallet from his pocket. She clicked her fingers at the barman.

"Give him a splash of black", she said, and then turned to face Snape. "I'll get this."

Her hand graced the back of his and he felt the involuntary tingle in his fingers, and the chill down his spine. She was pretty; really quite beautiful. Not like her sister. Not like Lily, either. Lily was soft and warm; fragile too, like her namesake. This woman, however, was all sharp edges, as though delicately, beautifully carved from marble by a master sculptor.

"Snakebite and black", the barman said, dropping it in front of Severus with a thud. "Anything for you ladies?"

The dark-haired witch raised her hand to pass up the offer and stood up, taking her cloak from the stool and draping it over one arm.

"No", she said. "We'll be going."

The fair witch looked at Severus, and he smiled at her, hoping that she might stay. She looked back at her sister, who tapped her foot impatiently.

 _Say something._

"You could, err... always stay and join me", Severus said, with a jolt of courage that could only have come from his pants. "I'd like the company."

The fair-haired witch nodded, much to the irritation of her sister.

"Fine", the dark-haired witch said, with a snip to her voice. "What's your blood status?"

"Excuse me?"

 _Not 'what is your name?' No 'where are you from?'. No. Blood status. It's always the fucking same with pure bloods._

"What is your blood status?" the witch said again, more slowly, as though she was speaking with someone a lot less capable than he.

The fair-haired witch, whose name he still did not know, looked uncomfortable beside her, but she did not challenge her sister. He considered lying; he knew what she wanted to hear.

"Half blood", he said, choosing honesty. "My father was a muggle, and a piece of shit to boot."

The dark-haired witch sneered, but she seemed to appreciate that he had no love for his father.

"And your mother?" the witch asked.

"Pure. She's a Prince."

The dark-haired witch raised an eyebrow and turned to the sister.

"Another blood traitor? But yes, I've heard of the Princes. They're not _entirely_ pure. Definitely a couple of rotten apples on their family tree, but... _almost_ pure. Alright Cissy, you could do worse. He's better than the last one, anyway."

 _Wait. What's happening?_

Colour rushed to the fair-haired witch's cheeks, and it warmed her undertones. She was really very pretty. The dark-haired witch moved away from the bar, and with a ring of the bell above the door, she exited. Severus let out a breath of relief, and the fair witch caught it, mirrored it, and laughed.

 _What a pretty sound._

"So..." she said, as though she was waiting for him to open a conversation.

 _I've never opened a conversation in my life. Well, not since..._

"Tell me your name", Snape said, surprising himself with how calm he sounded. "It can't be 'Sissy', can it?"

Neither did he sound pathetic and needy, which seemed to be his default setting of late. Ever since Lily had started going out with Potter.

 _She swore she didn't like him, but I knew it, didn't I?_

And he was Head Boy! James bloody Potter was Head fucking Boy. What was the world coming to?

 _I can't believe Dumbledore put that arrogant piss in a position of power._

"Narcissa", she said. "'Cissy' is a nickname."

 _Not 'Sissy' then. 'Cissy'._

Snape cocked his head.

"So I should call you 'Cissy'?" he said, with a smug tone in his voice, that pleased him.

It seemed to please her too.

"Try it", she said raised her eyebrows playfully.

 _Is she flirting with me?_

"Severus Snape", he said, extending his hand to shake hers.

He hoped that it seemed perfectly natural, and not like an embarrassing attempt to establish touch with a pretty girl. She grinned at him as she took his hand.

"Yes, you are! I knew I'd seen you somewhere. I was a few years above you at school. You were the Potions whiz, right?"

He groaned.

 _Oh God. That fucking award ceremony._

"That was me", he said between gritted teeth.

She laughed again and its lilt flittered around him like a moth drawn to his light.

"Well, you seem much different now", she said.

 _I do?_

"How so?"

"Well you just seem..." she said, dropping her hand to the bar, so it lay flat on it.

He wondered for a moment if she wanted him to take it.

 _Too soon. Play it cool._

"... You seem less..."

She grimaced and he decided to laugh at himself for once.

"You can say it. I was a dorky little shit."

"Well yes", she said and she took her pretty hand and ran it across his arm.

He felt his muscles flex and hoped that she didn't notice.

"But you seem much cooler now", she said.

 _Nobody has ever called me 'cool' in my life._

"And far more handsome than I recall."

 _Handsome? Come off it! How much have you had to drink?_

"So, Severus..." she baulked then, and followed with another lilt of laughter. "I'm sorry. That's such a mouthful. Can I call you 'Sev'?"

His body tensed and his arms stiffened. She felt it, and pulled away.

 _Only Lily calls me 'Sev'. Called me 'Sev'. Past tense._

"No", he said with a sharp tongue that he had not intended. "I'm sorry. I just... it reminds me..."

 _No. She thinks you're cool. Be cool. Don't fuck this up._

Narcissa threw her hair off her shoulder and met his gaze.

"What's her name?" she asked.

"Lily", he said, before he even thought not to. "How did you know?"

She ran her hand across his arm and squeezed him gently.

"I recognise heartache. I have much of my own."

He opted to change the subject, not willing to disclose the cause of his own broken heart, but being oddly drawn to asking questions about hers.

 _No. Be cool._

He found himself staring at her hands - snow white and delicate, like she'd never once lifted a finger, in comparison to his, rough and calloused. He took her hand then, as though it was completely normal to do so. Like they'd done it a thousand times. He stroked her palms, and then traced the veins in her wrist to her forearm. The little tail of a tattoo poked out from under her sleeve.

 _The dark mark?_

"Narcissa, is that...?"

She pulled her hand away, but she did not snatch, and as she tugged down her sleeve, she rested her hand on his thigh.

 _Talk about changing the subject._

"If I can't call you 'Sev'..." she said, "what shall I call you?"

"Is there something wrong with 'Severus'?" he asked.

Nobody else seemed to have a problem with his name. Except of course his muggle father who griped about it on a weekly basis. He hated the name; saying it was complicated and ridiculous. Although he wasn't entirely wrong, nothing much seemed to please his father. So it was no surprise to Severus that his displeasure didn't end with his name. Nor did it seem to end with him.

"You said your mother's name was Prince?"

"Yes".

Narcissa furrowed her brow as she concentrated, and then her entire face changed. Full of light and happiness, and a little crust and audacity that warmed his cold and rusted coils.

"I've got it!"

"Oh have you?" he asked.

She nodded, and her cheeks flushed pink again. He'd never seen a woman so incapable of keeping her thoughts to herself.

 _I'll have to teach her how to occlude._

She grinned at him then, and he felt his heartbeat pulse in his fingers.

"You're a Half Blood Prince", she said, and her eyes narrowed as though she suddenly spoke with all seriousness. "Yes. _My_ Half Blood Prince."

 _Yours?_

"You said Severus was a mouthful", he said, with a deliberately detached passivity.

She moved in towards him and spoke into his ear.

"I'll bet you're more than a mouthful, Severus."

 _Yep. She's hammered._

* * *

 **January 1979**

 **S.**

Narcissa moved into the room with delicate grace, but her face was harsh with worried lines.

"You went to see Lily", she said.

It wasn't a question, but she wasn't angry. She had her faults of course, but she was understanding where others would have judged him.

"Yes", he said. "I tried to warn her."

She shook her head and took her seat beside him.

"You can't do that. If the Dark Lord finds out that you're relaying information to the Potters, he'll kill you. He won't hesitate. You know that."

"Not 'The Potters', just her."

 _Just Lily. Always Lily._

Severus placed his hand on Narcissa's knee and she placed hers on top.

"Please be careful. I am scared for you."

"I know", he said. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to warn her that he would come to her. When he came to me... I didn't think that it would be so... I know that she would never accept, but I wanted her to have time to prepare."

"He wants them on his side? He won't stop until he gets them, you know?"

 _'His' side. Not 'our' side._

Severus nodded.

"Or..." he grimaced, "he'll kill them."

Narcissa kissed Severus on the cheek, and stood to her feet, holding her hands out to pull him to full height.

"Let's not worry too much about that."

"I can't help but worry. This isn't... I thought this was what I wanted."

Narcissa stroked the dark mark on Severus' arm and met his eyes. She understood. She had followed her sister down the dark path, believing that it would bring her glory and fulfilment. She believed that she was doing right by her family and her blood. She hadn't known any different. It was the Black way. Those who defied the Dark Lord were pruned from the family tree. It was the first time she had been forced to cast an unforgivable curse on a teenage boy that she had realised that although she had walked willingly into the flames, she was now bound to the pyre, with no way of escape.

Severus had been so sure that the mark would free him of his self-consciousness. It was such an honour to be named one of his most faithful. It was impressive, and he thought that it would make _him_ impressive. In reality, the things that were asked of him would impress no-one. They were acts of violence against the innocent and the vulnerable. He would not kill; he would never use 'Avada Kedavra' except in matters of self-defence. He would not strike someone with a spell they could not defend themselves against. He had made that clear.

The Dark Lord had accepted this position, but he was more interested in the spells that Severus created himself, anyway. He particularly enjoyed Sectumsempra. Severus had been ordered to follow the Dark Lord to the houses of those he planned to recruit. Severus would then be expected to perform the spell on one of the muggle prisoners that were always dragged with them to these meetings. It almost always worked. Nobody wanted to defy The Dark Lord after they had seen the damage his henchman could do. Severus would heal the muggles afterwards, uttering the countercurse as an apology. He would then alter their memories. He was only expected to remove the memory so that they were more compliant next time, but he would plant a new one, a lovely one, by way of atonement.

"We have each other", Narcissa said, as she placed her head on Severus' shoulder. "That is more than many people have. We should count ourselves lucky."

"Perhaps."

Narcissa's bottom lip protruded, and Severus rolled his eyes. He'd said the wrong thing, again. He was always saying the wrong thing.

"Can't we just be grateful?" she said. "Do you have to be so miserable all the time?"

"Yes", he sniped. "It is the life we have chosen for ourselves."

* * *

 **January 1980**

 **S.**

"Are you sure you want to marry him?"

Snape watched as Narcissa adjusted the white tulle of her dress, and smoothed it with her palms across the protruding bump of her stomach.

"It's a little late, isn't it?" she asked, and her pretty laugh was music to his ears.

 _She's happy._

"Not yet. Say the word and we'll run away together."

He raised his eyebrows and then winked at her, and Narcissa put her arms around his neck. He breathed in the familiar scent of her hair and tried to accept that this would be the last time.

"I'm so glad you came, Severus. I couldn't do it without your support."

 _I'm not the Prince any more. Just Severus._

"You wrote me a hundred times, how could I deny you?"

She laughed again and he tried to catch hold of the sound so that he could commit it to memory. He never wanted to forget what it sounded like. As he pulled away from the hug, he became aware of the child that sat between them and found himself staring at her stomach.

"Is it weird for you?" Narcissa asked.

He nodded, unsure exactly what to say.

 _Lighten the mood._

"Do you reckon he'll be born with a pretentious, little ponytail?"

Narcissa's face was alight with her laughter.

 _Keep making her laugh. Never forget it._

"Make sure you give him a blue bow so that everyone knows he is a boy."

She laughed again. He was warm with the sound of it.

"I still can't believe you left me for that pompous bastard!"

The smile faded, and there was a trace of unease on her face. He was ashamed to know he'd put it there.

 _You've gone too far._

"I'm sorry", he said. "I'm kidding. I like Lucius, you know that I do."

She nodded, and they were both grateful for the distracting sound of the music playing in the grounds below Malfoy Manor. This would soon be her home. She would be a Malfoy.

"So," she said, gesturing to her dress. "What do you think?"

"You look beautiful, Treasure. You always do."

She placed her hand on his cheek and then replaced it with a kiss. He closed his eyes and surrendered to how it felt to be loved by someone.

 _Will I ever be loved again? Twice this has happened. Twice you have driven your love into someone else's arms._

"I should head out. I'll see you down there. And remember, if you change your mind, I can have a getaway car here in ten minutes. I know a guy."

"A car, Severus?" she said, with a smile. "Be careful, Prince, your half-blood is showing."

She ran her fingers through his hair and he tilted his head, hoping that she might take it into her hands and kiss him as she had on their first night together. It had been so long since then, and so much had happened. He had two options. He could walk away and leave her to her life with Malfoy and get on with his own without her, as he had with Lily. Or he could learn from his mistakes and he could embrace a friendship with the only woman who had ever accepted him exactly as he was.

He hadn't lied before. He really did like Lucius. He was _his_ friend before he was Narcissa's. He had introduced them, knowing that they'd get on like a house on fire. He hadn't quite anticipated how tall the flames would grow, or that he would get burned. Still, if she was happy, and she did seem it, then who was he to object? They had not loved each other as she loved Malfoy, or he had loved Lily. They were not each other's great love, but they were a safe and happy love. She had now found her great love. Who would he be if he stood in between their happiness?

 _Do I want to end two valuable friendships - my only valuable friendships - because of bitterness and jealousy? Do I want to be alone simply because I cannot be with her? Perhaps I should wait for my great love?_

As Snape sat and watched the couple exchange their vows, he pushed the nausea to the pit of his stomach and roared his cheer louder than anyone else in the grounds.

 _I don't want to settle any more. Even if I have to wait twenty years. Maybe Lily will leave precious Potter and return to me? Or maybe... maybe there is a greater love in store for me one day? My life is wide open. I can do anything I want._

* * *

 **January 1981**

 **S.**

Severus stepped into the Lestrange's dining hall and stooped, nodding his head, in greeting. He would not bow. Tonight they would meet each other on more level footing. His master was becoming fast becoming his nightmare.

"What news do you have for me, Severus? It had better be good."

"My Lord", Snape said. "I am afraid I cannot call it 'good news'."

Lord Voldemort nodded, and bid Severus to take a seat at the table. Voldemort sat at the head, as he always did, even here in somebody else's home, and Severus took his own seat a few chairs down. He ran his finger across the arm of the chair and rubbed off the dust.

"What do you have, then?" Voldemort asked. "Tell me what you know. I have little patience."

"The prophecy, My Lord. You recall that I was removed before I heard it in its entirety? Well, there is... I have heard..."

"Do not make me suffer through your hesitation, Severus", Voldemort said, eyeing him darkly. "Tell me what it is you came here to say, or I will take a look inside your head, myself."

Snape swallowed.

 _So much for level footing._

"I have heard talk that there is more to the prophecy, My Lord. Something I did not hear before. Perhaps it would be wise to call off your hunt for the Potters until we know more?"

"Do not presume to tell me what to do, Severus" Voldemort sneered.

"No, My Lord. I would never. My apologies."

Severus heard a scratching sound from inside the room, but he did not dare to turn his back on The Dark Lord to inspect it, nor did he dare look him directly in the eye.

"Do you believe I should be afraid of what remains of this prophecy?" he asked.

"Not afraid, My Lord. I would never believe you capable."

Voldemort smirked.

"Quite right, Severus", he said, and with a flick of his wand he snatched a frightened mouse from a dark corner of the room and fed it to the great snake, Nagini. "However, you do believe I should change my plans?"

"I suppose not."

"Spit out what it is you really mean to say, Severus," Voldemort said, reaching for his wand. "Or I _will_ take it from you."

 _Oh fuck. No!_

"Lily Potter, My Lord!" he said, in a panic. "I would ask that you spare her!"

Voldemort nodded and with an upward hitch of his brow bone - he did not have eyebrows, so to speak, which only made him more menacing - Severus knew that he would have fared better trusting his Occlumency ability.

"You would ask _me_ , Lord Voldemort, to spare a Mublood!? For your fancy!"

"Not my fancy, My Lord. Please. I beg you… let her live. I will do anything you ask of me."

"You will do anything I ask of you because _I will it._ " Voldemort said; his voice was so vitriolic, so cold, that for the first time, Severus was not merely frightened – he was terrified."If not for your fancy, Severus? Then why?"

"I am fond of her. I have in the past, I suppose in a way I still do…" Severus winced as he finished, "… love her."

"Love?" he shrieked, with a sickening grin on his cracked lips. "You're pathetic!"

"Yes, My Lord."

Voldemort did not even flinch as he wrapped his fingers around his wand and stared at Severus, directly into his eyes - the red scorching the black .

"I am your Master", Voldemort spat. "You will obey me."

"Yes", Severus said, and he closed his eyes, knowing before even a word was spoken, what would come next.

"Crucio!"

* * *

 **January 1982**

 **S.**

"She's dead, Severus. There is nothing you can do about it. It's time for you to move on."

Severus paced the Malfoy's living room, across the thick Persian rug, and Narcissa tutted. She was so precious about that thing. He rolled his eyes and she moved towards him with a glass of brandy. She waited for him to turn to face her, grabbed his hand and shoved the glass into it.

"I know you cared for her and I know you feel guilty, and I'm so sorry. You tried to warn her. You begged for her life."

"Exactly! I shouldn't have said a damn word! She would still be alive... if I'd just..."

"No, you can't think like that", she said. "He would have killed her eventually, anyway. You did everything you could."

"I should have done more!" Severus snapped. "I should have gone to her and protected her!"

Narcissa's eyes flew wide open.

"And defy The Dark Lord?"

She shook her head repeatedly, as though trying to get her head physically around the concept of betraying Lord Voldemort.

"You would have died! What he did to you after you asked him to spare her. That was nothing in comparison to what he would have done if you'd tried to protect her."

"I suppose."

Narcissa held Severus' hand tightly and urged the glass to his lips.

"Drink up. You'll feel better. And Severus..."

He looked up at her. Her face had fallen. She was all fear; all worry.

"… Don't ever tell anyone else that you tried to warn her. They will not hesitate to kill you. I've not even dared to tell Lucius."

"Good", he said. "Don't tell him. It is my secret."

She squeezed his hand and then let go.

"And I will take it to the grave", she said.

There was a time when Severus had told Narcissa everything. Nothing had ever been off-limits. And it ate away at him that now he kept from her the biggest secret of his life. She did not need to know that he had turned spy. If she knew, she would be susceptible to the Dark Lord's legilimency. She would keep the secret if he asked her to, he knew, and she would die for it. And so he kept this darkest of all secrets to himself. Nobody could ever know. He was trapped. He could never count himself as truly belonging to Dumbledore, having failed to protect Lily. Nor could he call himself a loyal Death Eater, now that _he,_ that sick bastard, had killed her. Neither was he Lily's. She didn't want him; would never want him. She could ever want anything again. And now, he was not Narcissa's, as the secret he kept acted as a wall between them. His entire life had become a lie.

 _And so now, I am alone. Again._


	13. Chapter 13

13\. Simplicity

 **H.**

"How could you?" Hermione shrieked. "It's such an invasion of privacy!"

Ron began pulling his clothes from the wardrobe and shoving them into his trunk.

"Are you really going to pretend that you have the moral high-ground here, Hermione? You cheated on me! You betrayed my trust!"

"Oh please. 'Cheated?'" she snapped. "'Cheating' suggests that what we had was an actual relationship. And you're hardly one to talk about breaking trust. You were _tracking me!"_

"It's a good job, isn't it? Otherwise, I wouldn't have known where you were. What were you going to do? Waltz back in here like nothing happened? Carry on as usual?"

"As usual?" she barked. "As _usual?_ You mean, you sleeping at Grimmauld Place and giving me the silent treatment? Please! You knew this was over, as well as I did. Don't insult my intelligence."

"Oh, I would _never_ want to do that", he mocked. "Besides, it's not your intelligence that I hold issue with. It's your sanity. Severus Snape, Hermione. You're mad! You've actually lost it. It's the only explanation. Or you're so desperate that you'll jump anything that shows you the slightest bit of interest."

"Fuck you, Ronald! Honestly, the only thing that makes me question my sanity is that I've put up with your bullshit for as long as I have. In fact, I _must_ be crazy because I walked away from him to try sort things out with you, thinking that we could have a conversation like adults. I don't know what I expected!? Well, no more! Take your shit. Take your fucking _map_ ", she said, spitting the word in lieu of hexing him as she wanted to, "and get out."

Hermione snatched the map from the bed and shoved it into his hands.

"I can't believe you did that", she said, coldly. "You're not who I thought you were."

Ron grabbed his pathetic little trunk and stalked down the stairs, map in hand. She slammed the door behind him and screamed her anger. How could he? How fucking dare he? She knew that George had been working on a map, akin to the Marauder's Map, that traced people. But it was supposed to be like Molly's clock, to keep track of whether a person was safe. Not to stalk their every damn move.

 _Oh God,_ she thought. _That's how he found me up on the roof with Severus too. He had known I was there. Probably knew that Severus was there too. God, I've been so foolish._

* * *

:

 **S.**

Severus confunded his way through airport security, all the way to Prague, and back again. As he stepped out onto the streets of London and heard his mother-tongue in her many different accents, he knew that he was home. When he accidentally bumped into a lady with her nose in a book, and they both apologised by instinct, neither knowing or caring who was to blame, he was reminded again. He was no longer on holiday. He was back. Which meant that it was time for things to get _back_ to normal. Not the warped version of normality he'd become accustomed to of late, but his preferred normal. Simplicity.

 _Simple._

 _Fuck it... Boring! What is wrong with boring?_

As he stepped into his living room, he felt its familiarity like the embrace of an old friend.

 _Yes,_ he told himself. _Time to get back to normal._

He sat at his writing desk and penned out a letter of apology. He had been meaning to send it for a while, but this time he would add an addendum.

 _Cressida,_

 _I send both my sincerest apologies for my past behaviour and my hopes that you will join me for dinner on Saturday night.  
I promise to make it up to you, if you will be so kind as to let me._

 _Warm Regards_  
 _Severus_

He dropped his quill into the ink pot and called his owl from her perch. She was a silky, dark-plumed Great Horned Owl, brought over by an American company who had begun selling in Diagon Alley after its post-war reconstruction. She was beautiful really, although quite startling. He had called her Darcie, meaning dark one - it seemed fitting. It didn't seem fair to cage the thing, so she was allowed free roam of the house and gardens, which meant that he would sometimes catch her eyes from across the room and it would take a few moments for _his_ eyes to adjust to what he saw, and for his heart rate to return to its usual patter. She took the letter in her talons and nodded at him. He returned the gesture and patted her on her head before she took flight out of the open window.

Severus sat on his sofa and flicked through the photographs from his trip. Most had turned out okay; some better than others. As he moved towards the back of the pile, he felt his stomach drop as he caught sight of the figure dead centre of one of the photographs. A woman had approached him and asked if he wanted a photograph of himself in front of the castle. He hadn't wanted to be rude - so very unlike him, but he was out of sorts, lately - and so he had agreed, knowing that he could just throw it out later. The Snape in the photograph stood hunched over; a sickly shadow in all black. It wasn't just that he was ugly, because he knew that he was, that was no surprise, but he looked... sad.

 _How pathetic._

Darcie returned the next morning with Cressida's reply in her talons. She nipped at his fingers, affectionately, until he threw her a treat from the tin he kept on the kitchen counter. As his eyes flitted across the page, he smiled.

 _Cordial. Willing. Normal. Simple. Entirely the opposite of..._

He'd recognised the look on Hermione's face before she left. He had heard her words and understood what they meant. He'd figured it out just a couple of hours after he'd thrown his fist through the door. She was leaving to finally end things with Weasley. And then she'd come back for him, without complications – no barriers, just she and him - and it would be the beginning of something he was not ready for; would _never_ be ready for. He loved her and he suspected that she might grow to love him in return and that was entirely the problem. He had to walk away. It had been the right choice. Walking away seven years ago had been the right choice too, but he'd been weak and let her back into his life because he missed her.

 _God, I miss her still._

 _No. I'm not going to think about her. I'm moving on._

:

 **H.**

Hermione walked through her house as she had for the last eleven days, feeling the absence of Ron in every room. It was not just that he had removed his things - or rather, Harry had come to collect what remained of them - but his presence was not with her anymore. She had never been more lonely, and yet she felt free. As though a burden had been lifted from her very soul. From the moment she had kissed Severus in the secret place, she knew her relationship was over. Ron's girlfriend had thrown herself off the roof and the person that remained was Hermione. And _Hermione_ wanted Severus.

However, _Severus_ avoiding her. He hadn't been into work. Eric Something - she really should try to remember his name - had told her that Severus had demanded to take two weeks holiday, there and then, and he would be returning on the eighteenth. It was the evening of the fifteenth, which meant that she would see him soon.

She would run to him, she decided. She would tell him that it was over with Ron. She would tell him that perhaps she hadn't been clear before. That he must have misunderstood. That she had returned for him hours later, only to find that he was gone. That she was sorry. So fucking sorry. Whatever it was that he couldn't tell her, she would wait until he was ready. That she wanted to be with him. That she had made her decision. That she had known it all along but she had been torn, head versus heart. She had chosen heart; her heavy fucking heart that was all his, if he wanted it. All his, either way, even if he didn't. That she missed him. God, how she missed him.

:

 **S.**

"Cressida? Really?" Narcissa asked with a snip of disbelief to her voice. "Severus, I thought that we'd spoken about this? You know that she's not the one."

Lucius scoffed.

"Oh, 'the one'. What nonsense. Let him have his fun."

"Exactly", Snape said, although he did not feel as though he was in any place for 'fun', and neither was Cressida the type of woman to provide it.

Narcissa rolled her eyes at the pair of them.

"Yes, but you said, Severus, that you knew she wanted something serious. You're just going to hurt her."

 _Didn't think of that._

"Oh, she's a grown woman", Lucius said in a bored drawl. "It's one date. And if it turns into more, then as long as he maintains a respectable distance throughout the relationship, she can't be surprised when he inevitably breaks her heart."

"Who says I will break her heart?" Snape said, with mild indignation.

"I do", Narcissa said with narrow eyes. "Call it off! You're being cruel to her."

 _Perhaps._

"She knows who I am", Severus said. "I have shown her my true colours and if she has chosen to paint me with her own palette, that is on her."

And with that, he downed the rest of his drink and stood up, indicating that the conversation was over, and no more opinions would be humoured.

"You don't want her. You're just hurt. Please, just think about it, Severus?" Narcissa said as he grabbed his wand from the table.

"I am _not_ hurt", he snipped, and he disapparated.

:

 **H.**

Hermione pulled her favourite dress over her head and straightened the hem. Sliding on a pair of strappy shoes, she considered where she might go now that she was all dressed up. It had been a long time since she had been out into town, and longer still since she'd gone out alone. In fact, she couldn't recall that she ever had. Ron had accompanied her everywhere. Particularly after dark. That was one of the perks of being one half of a whole; you always had someone to drag along with you when you were too nervous to go alone. Although now she wondered if it was simply because he wanted to keep an eye on her.

Apparating right into the centre of a busy London street was not the best choice. It took a moment to get her bearings and for the world to right itself. With every double take from slack-jawed wizards, Hermione felt herself stand taller, and grow more confident, just as long as none dared to actually talk to her. She still wasn't entirely recovered from being followed on Frantic Alley. As she moved down the street, she caught sight of the red sign that hung outside the restaurant that she and Severus had reconnected in - Tiffs. As she approached, she allowed herself to look in the window, and recall how she had felt to see Severus again after all those years, and what it might be like to see him now. And then, with a hitch in her breath, she realised that she _was_ seeing him now. She was staring right at him.

He was as unconventionally handsome as he had always been, but with a slight tan to his face and arms, as though he had spent a lot of time outdoors. She couldn't help but fixate on him. The way that he sat back in his chair, at ease and in control. The way that he rolled up his sleeves before he poured himself a glass of wine. The way that his face broke into a smile, so devastating and beautiful, that it physically hurt her to see it. And it was then that she realised that he wasn't alone. Opposite him sat a pretty brunette in her thirties, perhaps late thirties; her haircut aged her.

 _Oh my god. It's the same woman._

The woman tucked her hair behind her ears as she took the glass from Severus and as their hands met, Hermione noticed that they both allowed their touch to linger a little longer than they needed.

 _It's a date. He's on a date?_

Severus moved backwards again on his chair and he laughed. He really, truly chuckled. Hermione felt her chest constrict as she stood at the window and watched the couple, unable to look away.

 _I don't understand? I don't… Oh my god._

Hermione wondered if heartbreak was physical. Because the pain was in her chest, not her mind. The picture of the couple in front of her became cloudy, as her eyes misted. It wasn't until a waiter stepped out of the restaurant and kindly asked if she wanted to come in, that she broke her gaze.

"No", she said. "Sorry, I was just looking".

The waiter narrowed his eyes, as he studied her.

"Then can you please move along?" he said, and all of a sudden she felt like a peeping tom, reprimanded for her inappropriate behaviour.

She nodded and took one last look of longing. As she turned away, she thought that she saw his eyes meet hers, but then she was gone, walking through the streets so fast it was almost a run. She felt her ankles tear as her heels fell between the cobbles, but it didn't hurt at all because all she could feel was her misery.

 _He doesn't want me._

:

 **S.**

Three weeks passed like no time at all. He and Cressida had had a second date the following week, and a third the week after. They had exchanged owls in between to 'catch up' at Cressida's insistence, and he had yet to find anything to complain about. She was perhaps a little too keen, but that was a nice change of pace. She was sweet and clever. She was even funny sometimes. He did have a good time with her. But it wasn't the same. He spent most of their time together wishing she was Hermione, and the rest of the time trying to subtly persuade her into his bed. She had yet to take him up on the offer.

 _Prude._

"She's nice", Severus said, as he took the bowl of roast potatoes from Narcissa.

"... And?" she asked, as she sat back in her seat.

"That's it. She's nice. She's fine."

"'Fine?'" Lucius asked, with a note of disdain in his voice. "Oh, Severus, my boy. Come on now. Don't settle down with 'fine'."

"I'm not settling down", he protested, as he flashed his eyes at Draco who sat opposite him with a grin on his face. "How much does _he_ know?"

"Oh, I know everything", Draco said with a grin. "You're pining over some woman, while you're shacked up with another."

"He doesn't know shit, Severus. Ignore him", Lucius drawled and rolled his eyes at his son.

"Well, that's not true. He knows that you're dating someone", Narcissa said, "and that you were briefly involved with someone else. That is the extent of his knowledge, so don't use any names and you'll be fine."

Draco sat up eagerly in his chair, and all at once he was thirteen again.

"Names...", he said, "... so it's someone I know?"

"No, it is not. Who do _you_ know? You have no friends. Now back off", Lucius said, smacking his son gently on the back of the head, with a low note of bemused laughter.

Draco turned to face Jessica who sat beside him, and they shared a secret smile.

"Carry on, Severus", Narcissa said. "You were telling us about your lady friend. That she is _fine_... and other romantic ideals."

"Oh, hush woman", Snape said from behind a smile that he could not help but leak. "She's nice, and she's smart, she's normal..."

Draco let out a derisive puff of air and spat out a piece of carrot. Lucius looked at his son with disbelief and then to his wife.

"Are you sure he is my son?" Lucius asked. "You didn't fool around behind my back?"

"Sorry, Darling. He's all yours."

Draco smirked as he stuffed a forkful of potato into his mouth.

"Oh, fucking hell", Lucius muttered and sank another glass of brandy. "What the hell did they do to you in Azkaban?"

It was true that Draco had changed considerably since the battle, and more still since he had begun his relationship with Jessica. In fact, Severus found the little brat's company much more enjoyable since she'd straightened him out. He was much less pompous; much less his father. He was much less concerned with image; much less his mother. Draco had always been the worst of both Lucius and Narcissa, yet now, Severus could find hardly a trace of either of them in him.

"Why did you snort, Draco?" Snape asked with a little snip to his voice, but he allowed a smile to flash across his face so that Draco, and more importantly Jessica, who was not yet entirely used to his humour, knew that he was not seriously angry.

"Who wants 'normal'?" he asked. "Normal is boring."

"She's not _boring_ ", Snape said, although that wasn't entirely true. "She's smart, and she's worldly, but she's I don't know... she's not..."

Narcissa placed her hand on his.

"She's not who you want to be with", she said and tapped his hand.

 _I'm not going to think about her._

* * *

On their next date, Cressida wore a brooch on her lapel that kept drawing his eyes to her chest and he wondered if she'd pinned it there on purpose; a crystal serpent with green eyes that seemed to wink at him.

"So, you were a Slytherin, then?" he asked, gesturing to the pin.

She nodded.

"Of course. Let me guess. You were too?"

 _You know that. Everybody who reads the bloody paper knows that._

"Yes", he said. "I was head of house, remember?"

She nodded.

"Right, yes. I had quite forgotten. Everyone on my Dad's side has been a Slytherin. He was really pleased when I got in, but it runs in families, doesn't it?"

"Not always..."

The conversation stagnated and Severus realised that he had run out of small talk. Cressida seemed to agree that they were now passed the tiny-talk part of their relationship and it was time to jump into the deep end.

"You know the woman you thought you saw on our first date?" Cressida said with a cheerful smile. "Will you tell me about her?"

 _Not jealous. That's a good sign. Balanced. Normal._

 _Simple. Just what he needed after all of the madness with…_

 _I'm not going to think about her._

"Really?" he asked. "Isn't that considered rude?"

"Perhaps. But I have the sneaking suspicion that you prefer people to be direct and I have been wondering, so I thought... I should ask."

"If you're sure?"

"Very much so", she said. "I'd like to know more about you and your past relationships."

"We were emphatically _not_ in a relationship", Severus said. "That was the problem. _She_ was in a relationship; a complicated one, and I sort of... accidentally got caught in the middle of it."

"Sounds complicated."

 _Oh, you caught that, huh?_

"It was", he said. "I don't like complicated. So, I broke it off."

 _No. You just walked away, without a word. Again. Like a damn coward._

She nodded enthusiastically.

"I'm the same way", she said. "I like a simple life."

 _Simple. Boring._

"I just do not have the patience for it any more", he said. "It seems so adolescent. I would just prefer that people say how they feel."

 _Hypocrite. Are you going to tell Cressida that you're not really taken with her? That you're in love with someone else?_

 _And Hermione_ _ **did**_ _tell you how she feels. 'I can't stop thinking about you. Not for a second'._

 _No! I'm not going to think about her._

"I agree entirely", she said, and she smiled with her whole face.

"I've been there before, years... _decades_ ago", he corrected, "and we're friends now, and I am close with her husband too, but at the time it was all so messy. I didn't want to do 'messy' again."

 _Liar. You didn't want to get hurt again. And you didn't want to burden Hermione with your…_

 _No. I'm not going to think about her._

"Tell me about that?"

"Okay, I may as well", he said. "You might meet them one day, so I suppose I should pre-warn you."

Her eyes lit up.

 _Should have seen that coming. Meeting my friends is a step too close to commitment._

"I'd love to meet your friends."

"I will... err—"

 _Oh, what the fuck is he doing here?_

Severus' black eyes met the blue and he stood to his feet. Ronald Weasley stood before him; his face puffy and red with anger.

 _Fucking wonderful._

"Good evening, Weasley", Severus said, with all of the patience and cordiality he could summon.

"Don't you fucking talk to me", he spat from behind his gritted teeth. "You fuck my girlfriend and you tell me 'good evening'? I don't think so."

Cressida's eyes flew open and Severus rolled his.

"Who the hell is this?" Weasley asked, pointing at Cressida. "Does Hermione know that you're out with another woman?"

"What business is it of Hermione's who I eat dinner with?", Severus said, with his fists curled at his side.

 _Stay calm. Don't make a scene._

Ron's anger burst and there followed maniacal laughter. Snape's fists turned white as he forced them closer to his side.

 _Fuck it! Rip his fucking head off! Literally tear his head from his shoulders!_

"Oh, that's brilliant", Weasley said with a smug voice. "I love it!"

For a moment Snape's rage moved to the side so that confusion could step to the foreground.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"She's not with you, is she?" Weasley smiled. "Oh, this is the best thing that's happened to me all day. She left me for you and you're not even together."

 _Fuck you._

"You can leave", Snape said. "I'm not even going to entertain this display."

 _She did it. She ended it. Did she come back for me?_

 _What does it matter? You weren't there. You ran away. Coward._

"You're not going to duel me for her heart, Snape? Oh, I was so hoping that we would take this outside."

"I don't want her heart", he snapped, but his answer came too quickly, and his voice betrayed his lie.

Weasley didn't seem to hear it. But he thought that perhaps Cressida had.

"Are you seriously telling me that _you_ snubbed _her_?" Weasley asked, with a sick and happy little grin. "Shit, I guess I owe you one. Actually, no. I suppose we're even."

Snape took his seat at the table and his fists fell to open hands, tipped with trembling fingers.

"We're done here", he said.

Weasley patted Severus on the shoulder and he snatched his arm away.

"She's not worth it, anyway", Weasley said. "She's a rotten lay. Well... you'd know all about that."

"Watch your tongue, Weasley, before I cut it from your mouth."

"Alright, I'll leave you to your date", he said smugly, nodding towards Cressida.

She had stirred in her chair and shifted uncomfortably as Weasley turned to her.

"Watch out for this one", he said, "he doesn't give a shit about fidelity."

Snape closed his eyes and waited for the boy to leave.

 _Just one hex. It'll be fine. A short stay in Azkaban to wipe that smug grin off his face._

He opened his eyes and saw that Cressida stared at him with sadness in her eyes. Not anger. Just a gentle and understanding sadness. They sat together in silence until he could not bear it a moment longer.

"I'm sorry", Severus said, because there was nothing else he could say.

"That's okay. It's he who should apologise!"

 _What?_

"I'm sorry that I have ruined our evening", he said, wondering if she thought that he was apologising for something else.

" _He_ , Severus. Not you. _He_ tried to ruin our evening. So, the solution is simple. We salvage it."

 _Simple._

"You want to just move on? You want us to forget it?"

"Unless you want to talk about it?" she asked. "If you need an ear… I have two."

"I'd prefer that we forget it," Snape said.

"It's already forgotten", she said. "Now, where were we?"

 _You really don't want to talk about that? You don't have anything to say on the matter?_

"You were talking about your friends - an ex-girlfriend and her husband..."

"... Yeah", he said, confused by her quick acceptance, but not wanting to return to the matter at hand. "The Malfoys. I dated Narcissa for about a year or so. We're all friends now, but for a while it was..."

 _Excruciating? Devastating? Impossible?_

"… it was rather difficult", he decided.

"I can't imagine being friends with an ex", she said. "Let alone their partner too."

"It's far less complicated than it sounds. You'll see for yourself when you meet them", he said. "How does tomorrow evening work for you?"

:

 **H.**

Becoming the centre of her own universe was not as easy as Hermione had anticipated. The issue, she realised, was that she was lonely. She had always been part of a group, and later, one half of a couple. All of a sudden she was a solitary unit, which would take some getting used to. She chose to start by making a friend. So simple an idea, yet so grand an undertaking. Making friends in adulthood was not like making friends as a child. You couldn't just go up to someone and say 'hi, I like your backpack, do you want to share my cookies?'

 _Or can you? What is the grown-up version?_

Hermione approached Jessica as she stacked shelves, and took a deep breath to ready herself. Jessica swung around and almost knocked Hermione over, which took care of announcing her presence.

"Oops! Sorry, Hermione. Didn't see you there", Jessica said, as though it had been her fault that she hadn't noticed the stoic figure stood behind her, in awkward silence.

Hermione picked up a book that had fallen from Jessica's arms and handed it back to her.

"Hey, I was wondering..." Hermione said, swallowing the lump that began to form in her throat. "Would you fancy going out for a drink after work? I don't know many people here—"

Jessica raised her eyebrows and grinned, and it was so unexpected a reaction that for a moment Hermione thought she was about to be hexed.

"Yes! I'd love to. Oh my god!", Jessica said. "I've been trying to figure out a way to ask you to do something outside work for weeks now. But it's so hard to know what to say. It's not like when you're a kid, is it? When you would just go up to someone and say 'hey, you seem cool, let's be friends'!"

"I was just thinking exactly that! That's odd."

"Not really", Jessica said with a coy smile, "I think you'll find we have a lot in common."

"What makes you say that?"

Jessica stuffed a book back onto the shelves and talked over her shoulder.

"Well," she said, almost conspiratorially. "I went to Hogwarts. I know all about the shit you got up to at school. All the Ravenclaws talked about you. Now, I can't say I ever fought a _real_ troll but I did once jinx Irma Pince..."

"You didn't?"

"Oh I did", Jessica beamed. "It was an accident, but still... Hey, wait... didn't you punch my boyfriend once?"

Hermione pressed her lips together and grimaced.

"Yeah", she said apologetically.

"Right, I'm going to need to know everything."


	14. Chapter 14

**AN:** Dialogue-heavy. Necessary evil. A better writer than I, I'm sure, could and would have cut out some of the chatter but this is what you get, I'm sorry, haha.

* * *

14\. Scheming

 **H.**

Friendship with Jessica came easily. She had been right, they did have a lot in common. They were both muggleborns, Jessica had gone to primary school not far from Hermione. They were both rational to a fault, and naturally prone to being high-strung and difficult to please. Jessica had learned to relinquish control, she'd said, and would teach Hermione how to do the same. And they both loved to read - a prerequisite for working in a library, Hermione knew - but she had not anticipated how much so. 'Bring your favourite book, tomorrow', they'd agreed, and they laughed when they each pulled a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ from their bags, seven years after leaving; nine years for Jessica. When she described Draco, Hermione could not reconcile this version of Malfoy with the person she had known. But she supposed, neither was Severus who she had expected.

"Get up!" Jessica said, determined that she would pull Hermione out of her sadness by any means necessary. "We're going to dance away the sadness."

Hermione folded her arms tightly to her chest, as Jessica tugged on them.

"Come on! I won't take 'no' for an answer."

Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up, reluctantly from the sofa.

"I know you know this song, Jessica said with a grin that filled her face, "every muggleborn witch who grew up in the eighties knows this song."

Jessica pulled her wand from her pocket and with a gentle flick of her wrist, Prince's _Kiss_ began to play on the record player. Hermione couldn't help but surrender to the flutter of a smile on her lips.

"I defy anyone to be sad when this song is playing", Jessica said. "Even Draco likes it."

"Draco!?" Hermione said, her eyes wide and interested. "No way! I don't believe it."

"You don't have to be beautiful..." Jessica sang, as she grabbed Hermione by the hands and forced her to move, "... to turn me on."

Hermione felt her toes begin to tap in spite of herself, and before she knew it, she and Jessica were jumping on chairs and tables, the joy of the music infectious as it was. Jessica held her hands aloft as she threw her hair from side to side to the rhythm. Even Hermione felt herself attempt to actually dance, which it turned out, was not something she was very good at unless it was highly organised and choreographed.

"My turn to choose", Hermione said, as she leapt from the sofa and pulled her wand from the table. "If you don't like this song, I'm walking out."

Jessica threw her head back and laughed, as she bumped int0 the coffee table.

"Who put that there?" she said, as she smacked the table, as though to scold it. "Bad table."

"Oh my God! My Dad used to do that", Hermione said. "You're ancient!"

"Excuse me! I'm only two years older than you", Jessica said playfully, as she thrust another glass of wine into Hermione's hand and the record player scratched back to life. "Oh! Who doesn't like this song?!"

"Do you know how long it's been since I listened to muggle music?" Hermione yelled happily, over the roar of the intro. "Ron hated it."

"Forget Ron! He's an idiot!" Jessica shouted, before beginning to wail incorrect lyrics to the tune of Heroes, by David Bowie.

 **:**

 **S.**

Severus caught sight of Hermione and waited for her to turn her back before he passed through the library reception. She turned just as he rounded the corner and took a steadying breath before picking up his pace. Ignoring her wasn't the most rational course of action, nor could he keep it up forever, but it would be a lot more difficult not to think about her if he had to look at her. Because when he looked at her, he wanted to kiss her. And if he kissed her, they'd be exactly where they were before.

Whatever the reason, Hermione had chosen not to tell him she had ended things with Weasley. He'd worked through all of the possible reasons she would have kept it to herself, but he kept settling on one truth. Weasley's assessment. She didn't want to be with him. Which was _fine_ , because he didn't want to be with her either.

Cressida was fine. Sex with her was fine. Everything about her was fine. She was a nice person.

 _She deserves better than you, anyway. God! Why isn't 'nice' enough?_

Severus sat on the bed and pulled on his trousers. As he stood up to fasten them, Cressida approached, wrapped in just a towel, with big, bright eyes and he felt his stomach turn. She may as well have written 'I love you' on one eyelid and 'marry me?' on the other.

 _Oh no. This was a mistake._

As he took in the look on her face, the truth of Narcissa's words before his first date with Cressida hit him like an unforgivable curse right to the chest.

'You're just going to hurt her. You're being cruel to her.'

… _Was she right?_

"Last night was incredible", she said, and she sighed in a way that said that she was truly happy.

 _Why can't I just be happy?_

"Mmm", Severus said, and he begrudgingly accepted her offer of an embrace.

He didn't want to lie to her. He felt as though he was doing enough of that simply by inviting him to her room. It was a lie when he kissed her. He lied when he held her hand. He lied when he undressed for her.

Cressida opened her mouth and she looked for a moment as if she was readying herself to say something important.

 _Oh god. Don't say it._

"Severus, I..."

 _Don't. Don't you dare. Please don't say it._

"I'm so glad that you asked me out", she continued and Severus let out a breath of deepest relief. " I've never been so happy."

 _Oh, God. That's almost as bad._

"I'm... glad you accepted."

* * *

"I know", Severus said. "I need to talk with her."

"No. You need to end it!" Narcissa snapped, forgoing all of her usual tact. "I told you. You're going to break her heart."

Severus looked to Lucius. He could usually be counted on to offer a counter-argument.

"Hey, don't look at me. I'm with her", he drawled. "Not for the same reasons, but you should end it. She sounds a little intense. How long has it been? Not even a couple of months? You've only been on a few dates. Get out while you still have your testicles attached to your body."

Lucius took a canapé from a passing tray and shoved it into his mouth. He swallowed and quickly summoned the tray back and had it float beside him.

"As in... you believe she is emasculating me?" Severus asked, exasperated and a little irritated. "Or that she-"

"That she will _literally_ cut your balls off, yes, that is what I mean."

"Don't be ridiculous", Snape said and turned to Narcissa who shrugged and walked away to join the party planner, who was overseeing the caterer.

"Oh, lighten up!" Lucius said, shoving the tray of canapés into his hands. "Here, have one of these. The prawn ones are delightful. Remember you have to walk away before they get clingy…"

"What?" Severus asked, confused, looking at the tray of canapés and then back to Lucius.

Lucius shook his head as he laughed, and a sliver of white hair fell from his ponytail.

"No, not the prawns, you idiot. Women."

"Ah", Severus said. "And, err - what if they've already... clung?"

Lucius pondered for a moment.

"Would you consider faking your own death?" he asked.

"Right. Brilliant. Very helpful. Anyway, tell me…" Snape said, hoping for a change in conversation. "Why are we rehearsing a dinner party?"

"Narcissa likes everything to run perfectly. You will be joining us tomorrow, won't you?"

Severus took a whiff of the prawn appetiser and placed it back on the tray.

"Of course! I wouldn't miss it! I'm just so excited for the reveal of the west wing!"

Lucius narrowed his eyes.

"You know, sarcasm doesn't become you, Severus."

Snape grinned.

"Oh, your words! They hurt me."

:

 **H.**

Hermione's sweaty palms and quickening heart recognised the woman before she did. Her silver hair was pinned in elaborate curls on top of her head, and the large sapphires that hung from her ears caught the light and fractured a pretty blue hue across the reception. She moved towards Jessica and opened her arms to embrace her. Hermione's mouth was suddenly dry, but she didn't dare reach out and grab the bottle of water that sat on her desk, for fear of drawing attention to herself.

It had been years since she had writhed on Narcissa Malfoy's floor and yet it was as though she was still bloodied and broken; she could still hear Bellatrix's cackle of laughter as she cried. She could still see Narcissa stood at the side of the room with her hand over her mouth and her eyebrows furrowed.

Narcissa and Jessica laughed and smiled throughout their conversation and Hermione couldn't ignore the absolute absurdity of this muggle-hating, blood purist, embracing her perfect son's Mudblood girlfriend. She let out a low, involuntary huff of irritation that drew both of their attention towards her and her heart began again to hammer inside her chest. She didn't look at Jessica, her attention was on Narcissa, who seemed very interested in her.

Her face tightened as she took in Hermione, and then, all at once, Narcissa's eyes opened wide and her lips parted. Her face lost of all its colour, and those piercing grey eyes became pink and glassy. She stared at Hermione, and Hermione returned it, unable to look away.

As Narcissa's hand flew to her face, Hermione realised what she was looking at.

 _Shame._

Without her knowledge, Hermione's fear shifted into sadness until she too felt her eyes prick with the hot sting of tears. Jessica placed her hand on Narcissa's back and guided her out of reception.

 _Why do I feel guilty? I didn't do anything wrong?_

Hermione supposed that she was so accustomed to guilt of late, that her mind had come to expect it, and simply created it in its absence. However, there was understanding there. Hermione had her own fair share of shame that she lugged around in a trunk for when she was feeling particularly morose, and then she would have a good rifle through it. Of course, nobody had ever been tortured on her watch, but she had hurt someone.

Hermione hardly had a chance to right herself long enough to continue cataloguing the returns, before Jessica and Narcissa stepped back into the library. Jessica alone walked towards Hermione.

"Come on", she said. "We're taking a break. Simon has it covered."

"I don't want to go anywhere with her", Hermione said.

She hadn't meant it to sound so pathetic.

"Yes, you do", Jessica said. "Hear her out. If you never want to see her again, that is your choice. She will never return here. I'll make sure of it."

Hermione took her seat on the picnic bench with Jessica to her right and Narcissa opposite. Hermione had insisted that the conversation happen outside, if it had to happen at all…

 _Outside. Where there are plenty of witnesses._

"Right", Jessica said, acting as unelected mediator. "Hermione, you are my friend. Narcissa, you are Draco's mother. That means that I am impartial here."

Both Narcissa and Hermione nodded.

"Narcissa, will you tell Hermione what you told me? Then if Hermione wishes to respond she can. If that opens a discussion, then wonderful. If not… we all walk away with no harm done. Okay?"

They both nodded again. Jessica gestured to Narcissa to allow her to speak, but as though she couldn't find the words to begin, she simply shook her head with her eyebrows drawn together.

"I don't know where to start", she said. "I can't even begin to express how sorry I am."

"I know", Hermione said, and to her surprise, she _did_ know.

Narcissa was genuine. There was no actress alive who could carve such sorrow into her face.

"I was drawn into the darkness from the moment I was old enough to be useful", Narcissa said. "It was the path I had been on all my life. It never occurred to me that it was wrong until it was too late."

 _Just like Severus._

Except Severus took a great risk to betray Voldemort. The Malfoys didn't turn until they were sure he was losing.

"I think I understand", Hermione said. "I don't want to be angry with you. I'm so tired of anger."

"We wanted to walk away, we truly did. But everybody we knew was on his side. We didn't have anywhere to turn. He'd have killed us. I had to protect my son."

 _Just like Lily._

"I love my son, Hermione. I've never known a love like it. I would die before I let anything happen to him. The only people I have ever had in my corner were my sister, my husband and Severus. I went to him, you know, when The Dark Lord chose Draco to kill Dumbledore. I made him swear that he would do it, knowing that he would not deny me. It was an abuse of our friendship, truth be told. It was my second act in defiance of The Dark Lord, and Severus agreed to be part of it. It was Severus who first taught me Occlumency so that I could lie to him; that was our _first_ betrayal. That was how I was able to tell him that Potter was dead – which was my third act of defiance. I believed that The Dark Lord had killed Severus and I hated him for it. I knew I would never live to betray him a fourth time. But, I didn't know that Severus had switched... I didn't know! He kept it from me. Do you see? If I had known that I had someone on the other side then, I don't know... maybe things would be different?"

"Don't blame him", Hermione snipped.

"I'm not. I'm not at all. What I am saying is that Severus is brave. I am not. I need someone to hold my hand if I am going to take a risk, and he was always the one who took it. Each time I turned my back on The Dark Lord, it was Severus who urged me through."

As Hermione tried to access her hatred, to reassess it, she realised that where there had been sadness and fear and anger, there was only empathy. Not forgiveness. But understanding.

"I understand but that doesn't make it okay", Hermione said, feeling her sharp edges soften.

"I know. But if it means anything… I never hurt anyone. Not in all these years. I persuaded, and I threatened… once or twice I resorted to the Imperius curse, but I did not physically harm anyone."

"And your husband? Can the same be said for him?"

Narcissa dropped her head.

"Blood purity is what we heard all our lives and learned as truth. It takes a long time to unlearn those behaviours. Lucius is proud and reckless – and he is attracted to status and power. The Dark Lord offered us that. We did not know – could never have imagined – the lows he would stoop to, in order to get and keep power. I love my husband, but he too is a coward. We did what we thought was best, given the situation. We had gotten ourselves into the mess, but it was much harder to claw our way out. I am just sorry that we were not brave like you and Severus. I know what you did for him…"

 _You do?_

"… He is very important to me. I will forever be in your debt. For what I let happen to you in my home, and again for what you did to care for him. Anything, and I mean _anything_ I can do for you, all you have to do is name it."

"Thank you", Hermione said, unsure what else there was to be said.

:

 **S.**

Narcissa stared at the menu in front of her and her brow furrowed.

"I just didn't like her, Severus, okay? Anyway, what did you think of the cucumber soup? Too much?"

"It was fine", he said. "The canapés were bland and pretentious, however. And what could the woman possibly have done to offend you in the thirty seconds I was away from the table?"

"The canapés were delicious, Darling", Lucius said, kissing his wife on the cheek as he passed through the kitchen. "Ignore Severus and his misguided palate."

"Canapés are supposed to be pretentious, Severus", she said, dropping the menu. "It's nothing she did. I thought Cressida was quite lovely. She is just not right for you."

"Narcissa, Darling", Lucius said with a tone of warning, "you have your meddlesome face on. Drop it. He has made his choice."

"It's the wrong choice", Narcissa snipped. "And you know it, Severus."

"Tell me, Narcissa, since you know me so well", Snape drawled, as though it was not true that Narcissa did know him - better, in fact, than anyone, "what is it about her that is 'not right for me'?"

Lucius stopped in the doorway, keen to listen in on the conversation.

"Well for a start", Narcissa said, "she's not Hermione."

"I have made my decision! You don't have to like it. But you _do_ have to drop it."

"You're right… I _don't_ like it," she said.

"I don't give a shit what you like! God! You're so damn nosey!"

"Severus, stop it!" Lucius snapped, moving tall, in towards Severus, in an unexpected display of anger. "You sound like a petulant teenager! Worse even than Draco ever was. We are your friends and we want what is best for you. Stop taking your heartbreak out on my wife. If you're going to continue slinging insults, you can damn well leave."

"My heart is quite whole, thank you very much", he said with a sulk.

 _Oh God, I do sound like Draco._

Lucius scoffed.

"Oh, you are maddening! You can't even admit that you're in pain. It is not brave to hurt in silence, Severus. What is it that you are so afraid of?"

Lucius pulled himself to full height and Severus moved to meet him; both squaring their shoulders.

"What has you so unbelievably fucked up that you're afraid to love her?!" Lucius said, with a prod to Snape's shoulder. "Love is not weakness! Did you not learn anything from the Dark Lord?!"

"He murdered Lily!" Snape said. "So, no! I have not forgotten the lesson he taught me about love!"

"What lesson? What are you wittering about!? Unless... Were you..." Lucius' face dawned with comprehension. "You were _in love_ with Lily Potter!?"

"Fine. Yes", Snape said, folding his arms, and narrowing his eyes. "I loved her. Before Narcissa, before Potter. We loved each other. I begged The Dark Lord to spare her life and—"

"And he killed her", Lucius finished, with a rueful tone and a nod of understanding, as though he was piecing together the full story.

"Yes".

"He didn't initially plant to kill her, did he?"

"No", Severus said, and his voice cracked for the first time; unable to keep his composure.

"He killed her _because_ you begged for her life?"

"Yes".

 _Don't you dare cry,_ he warned himself. _This is hard enough._

"That hateful bastard. He was punishing you. She died because you begged for her life and you begged for her life because you loved her", Lucius said, no longer asking - he knew.

"Yes".

Severus hung his head and took a deep, steadying breath.

"Severus… do you think she died _because_ you loved her?" Lucius asked.

"Yes."

"And so… you think... what? That you're protecting Hermione by not admitting your feelings for her?"

Severus shrugged.

 _I'm not just protecting_ _ **her**_ _. It's more complicated than that._

"I suppose", he said.

"Oh, Severus, you are still in your head. I have already warned you against it. You cannot apply logic to your feelings. Reason and emotion are almost always polar opposites. You must know that. You are far too smart not to."

"There's nothing else? No other reason that you think loving someone makes you vulnerable?" Narcissa asked, urging him to finish his sorry story, knowing as well as he did that there was more to tell, but he had told more than enough for one day.

"No", Severus said, with a glare of defiance. "That is everything. And I would prefer that not a word I have said will leave the three of us."

"On my honour. I won't tell a soul", Lucius said. "I'm sorry, by the way. The Dark Lord was most cruel. Now, if you'll forgive me, I should attend to the waiting staff."

"Of course", Snape said, as Lucius patted him on the back and left him alone with Narcissa.

He stared at her, as she pressed her lips and raised her eyebrows.

"What?" Severus asked.

"You could have told him, you know?" she said.

"Narcissa, I hate that even _you_ know. I only told you because I was young and drunk, and madly in love with you."

She smiled. She still liked to hear that he once had feelings for her, even if no such feelings remained. It was a fanciful reminder of their youth.

"You have to learn to trust people, love. You know that what happened with Potter and his friends isn't going to happen again", she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "You were sixteen. You're not that boy anymore."

"Exactly", he said. "The dangers I fear are far worse than some schoolyard bullying."

"You say that, but it was still the worst thing that ever happened to you, isn't it?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

She sighed.

"You know, if you spent less time with your thoughts, and spoke with people more, you might find that they surprise you. If you just spoke with Hermione- if you just opened up a little you might—"

"Nope", he said, popping the 'p', "don't start with that again."

"Fine", she said, rolling her eyes. "We can change the subject if you'd like?"

"Please", he said, with a grateful, pressed-lipped smile.

"Okay then", Narcissa said. "I met her… Hermione."

Snape's eyes shot wide.

"What?!"

"I like her a lot. I see why you're so taken with her."

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

"I invited her tonight, by the way", she said, "so you might want to nip home and change into something a little nicer."

 _Hold on. What?_

"You did what?!" Severus snapped, as he stormed out of the kitchen behind Narcissa, who, anticipating this reaction, had swiftly moved out of the room that housed the knives.

"I invited Hermione to tonight's soiree", she repeated. "She is Jessica's friend after all."

Snape shrugged with his whole body.

"So?"

" _So_... I thought that Jessica would like some company."

"Oh my God. Are you trying to kill me?"

Narcissa spun on her heel and moved towards Severus. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her lips were pursed, and her face was pink with irritation.

"No, Severus. I am not trying to kill you. If anything, I am trying to _help_ you. Stop stringing Cressida along and tell Hermione how you feel."

"Not in a million years. You can stop your petty match-making! Whatever scheme you are cooking up, just stop."

"No! You stop!" Narcissa snapped, throwing a tea towel onto the counter. "She is not with the boy anymore. She was with you, Severus. Freely and willingly. She is likely waiting for you to come to your senses."

"I am finally thinking clearly", he snipped.

"Are you? She asked you what was wrong, and you told her you were fine. She asked you if you wanted her to stay, and you said no. If you were only lying to her or to Cressida that would be one thing, but you are lying to _yourself_ , and it is absurd. Why are you so set on being miserable?!

"You know why", he said, and he felt the familiar pressure on his chest that came whenever he thought about it.

"Severus, come on. We've talked about this. It won't be like that… She's not Lily."

"It hurts all the same", he said, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"What's a little pain? We've lived through worse."

Snape raised his hands in defeat and moved away.

"I can't believe you invited her here", he muttered and stepped out of the kitchen.

He heard her follow behind, and he was about ready to tell her not to bother, when she spoke.

"Severus", she said, in a small voice; uncertain and fearful. "Do you know?"

He turned to face her and met her solemn eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Do I know what, love?"

"What happened here. What Bella did to Hermione."

Severus shifted his weight from side to side.

"Yes", he said eventually. "She told me. We shared horror stories."

Narcissa's body sagged so much that she looked smaller.

"I was there", she said.

"I know".

"I didn't make the connection. When you told us about Hermione, I didn't remember her. It wasn't until I saw her that I realised who she was and what I had done... You didn't say a word?"

"Would you have preferred a scolding?" he asked, cocking his head.

Narcissa turned her back and busied herself with cleaning that she could have easily and better accomplished with her wand.

"You feel guilty?" he asked.

"Of course! Don't you hate me?"

He gave a dry laugh.

"Narcissa, why would I hate you? You are my oldest, dearest, most treasured friend. I love you. You have done far worse than stand by while someone was hurt. As have I."

"But she's different. I can't understand how you can even look at me. You hated the Dark Lord for what he did to—"

"Don't!" he snapped. "Don't you ever compare yourself to him. You are not like him. We all did what we had to stay alive."

"But _you_ switched!"

"Because he killed Lily. If she had lived, I would have followed him into the darkness and never looked back. You can't understand what it is like to lose a loved one at his hands."

Narcissa placed her hand flat on the counter. Severus placed his on top of it, knowing that it was the comfort she wanted, though she would never ask.

 _Some things will never change._

"I can't understand what that's like?" she asked, gently. "He said he had killed you. He returned from the shack and he boasted about it, Severus; said he had murdered you to take control of the Elder Wand. He killed you for power. Just like he killed Lily over a damn prophecy. He was mad! But that's why we deserted him. I could not stand beside him thinking he had killed you. Before you sent your letter, I spent weeks in Azkaban, thinking... I thought you were dead, Severus. So don't tell me I don't understand."

Severus placed his arms around Narcissa's shoulder and pulled her into an embrace by way of apology. But it wasn't enough. She deserved to hear it.

"You're right. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I was an arsehole before. You're not nosey… I mean, you are, horribly nosey but I am very fond of your… nose."

Narcissa's gentle laughter pleased him.

"I just want you to be happy", Narcissa said, taking a white, silk handkerchief to her eyes. "The only thing in the way of your happiness is fear. I have always believed you to be the bravest man I've ever known. Don't prove me wrong, okay?"

Severus nodded.

"Okay, love. Come on now", he said. "Your guests will be arriving shortly."

* * *

 **AN** : Hello, I know you're all getting frustrated and thank you so much for being patient with me while I explore these characters' fears and neuroses. We're done, I promise. It all changes again from now on. Love you. Kisses.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN:** To the handful of people who have stuck with me this far, I give you what you've so patiently waited for, hahaha.

Oh and smut.

* * *

15\. So Be It

 **H.**

Malfoy Manor was not at all how she remembered it. Where it had once been dark and imposing, it was now impressive and beautiful. Still, she felt her heartbeat in her fingers and the blood pulse in her ears. As she stepped in through the green doors, that had previously been black, Hermione took in the grand staircase adorned with crystals. Suddenly she felt underdressed in her simple, floor-length navy-blue dress. She was considering transfiguring it into something a little more special, when she caught sight of Jessica at the top of the stairs, in a black t-shirt dress that she had dressed up with gold accessories and heels that Hermione would certainly fall to her death from.

"You look good. And not like your outfit cost more than my rent, which I appreciate", Jessica said, as she walked Hermione through the marble archway.

It was just as Narcissa had promised. Nothing about the manor was recognisable. They had completely altered the layout over the years. The first room to go was the living room; the room in which Hermione's life had been altered irrevocably.

Narcissa swept towards them in a silver ball gown and kissed Jessica on the cheek. She nodded to Hermione with a sweet smile and urged them into the room.

"Severus should be around here somewhere", she said, and Hermione got the feeling that this was the real reason for her invitation. "Would you mind if I spoke with you alone?"

It took a moment for Hermione to realise that Narcissa was speaking to her. Jessica raised her eyebrows as if to ask Hermione if she was okay with her leaving, and she felt herself nodding before thinking through the implications of a conversation alone with Narcissa.

"I am so glad that you came", Narcissa said, hooking her arm around Hermione's, once they were alone. "I know you were likely in two minds. I do not expect you to forgive me. What I have done is unforgivable. But I would like you to know that I am not the person I was. Severus can attest to that."

"Well, he's not really speaking with me at the moment", Hermione said. "I believe he is avoiding me again."

Narcissa smiled.

"Yes, he does that. Don't take it personally. He is protecting himself."

"From what?"

"From your rejection…" Narcissa said, as though this was perfectly obvious.

"I didn't reject him", Hermione argued. "He moved on? I saw him on a date with that woman."

"So what? He doesn't love her, Hermione. He's in love with you."

 _What?_

"He's a mess, truth be told", Narcissa said. "Life has dealt him a tough hand. He's been through a lot."

 _He loves me?_

"I know", Hermione said, fiddling with the beads on her bag.

"You don't know. Not really. He doesn't trust very easily."

"But he loves me?" she asked. "You're sure."

Narcissa smiled, and gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders.

" _I_ believe so yes. He has been surprisingly open about his feelings for you, but he has not yet used that word. I don't know if he would even dare."

She snapped her head up to meet Narcissa's gaze.

"Why are _you_ telling me this? Why hasn't he come to speak to me himself?"

"Isn't it obvious? He is afraid."

 _He loves me?_

"I thought he was supposed to be brave", Hermione said.

"… Not with his heart."

She caught sight of him in an instant. He may as well have been the only person in the room. His was the only face she sought. He met her eyes for the first time in weeks and the moths in her stomach batted their wings. He cast a shadow across the room, yet she was drawn to the light in his face. The twitch of a smile on his lips as he looked her up and down. The dark stubble of his chin and cheeks framed its perfect picture. As he moved towards her, silent and steadfast, she felt the call of her heart, and wondered why nobody covered their ears to shut out its sound. Just as quickly as he had moved towards her, he stopped, as though he had tripped over his own footsteps and his face was doubt and sadness.

 _Right. I have nothing to lose._

:

 **S.**

 _The only thing in the way of your happiness is fear._

Severus paused as he made his way towards her.

 _Normal. Simple._

 _Nothing in my life has ever been simple._

Hermione narrowed the gap between them as she walked towards him - her face all questions - but he had no answers.

"You look lovely", Severus said, and he even heard the tone of sorrow in his voice.

"Thank you", Hermione said with a grief to match his own. "So, can we just address the elephant in the room? You're seeing someone."

"Yes", he said, a little defensively. "I am."

Hermione nodded as she looked to the floor.

"Good. Good. What's her name?"

"Cressida", Snape said, involuntarily.

"Right. I saw you together at Tiff's the other day. You looked happy."

 _Tiffs? The restaurant? That was our first date... well second, I suppose. Right after..._

"Is that... is that why you didn't tell me you had ended things with the idiot?"

Her mouth split into a rueful smile and the quake in his knees reminded him just how weak he was when she was around.

 _Weakness._

"Well, I did try to tell you before, but you kept cutting me off and talking over me", she said, and although her words felt accusatory, her face was gentle; brushed with the softness of a smile that didn't belong there but at least she wasn't angry with him _._ "Would it have made a difference, if I _had_ told you?"

"Perhaps not. But it is all over?"

"We've been over for months, really. By the time we… me and you… were together… we hardly spoke to one another, but I think you know that already. He's moved out though, yes, if that's what mean."

"Well, I'm glad... for you."

' _You could be happy. The only thing standing in your way is fear.'_

"We were kidding ourselves, weren't we?" she said; her heartache was etched into her smile.

"What?"

"Narcissa said that you love me, but you don't… do you?"

 _Now or Never, Severus._

 _Never._

Her apologetic laughter broke the silence.

"Thank you. That's all I needed to know", she said. "It was foolish to believe otherwise, I'm sorry."

 _Wait? Do you return my feelings?_

"Hermione, do you..."

She looked at him curiously, waiting for him to finish but the words would not materialise. He watched the tremble of her lower lip and he understood.

 _You do. You love me._

"I'm glad you're happy, Severus. I will try to be happy for you."

The laughter that followed did not fool him.

 _I'm not happy._

 _You could be. The only thing standing in your way is..._

He opened his mouth to speak but as he met her eyes, he shook his head.

"Never mind."

 _Oh my God, Severus. Grow a pair._

"I'll see you at work, okay?" she said into her hair, as though she meant to hide her face. "I should go."

And she was gone.

Severus caught Narcissa's eye from across the room, and she shook her head; her disappointment as palpable as Hermione's and his own.

* * *

As the dinner party died down, Severus gathered his things and prepared to leave. He had stayed long enough that it would no longer be considered rude to say his goodbyes. He caught Lucius first, and shook his hand. Lucius patted Severus on the shoulder as a show of affection for him, but mostly to show off their friendship to the men he entertained. In the last few years, being friends with Severus had ceased to be a blemish on one's character, and was suddenly a desirable trait; something with which you could apparently impress people.

 _What nonsense._

Severus caught Narcissa in the drawing room. She was alone, which was unlike her. Usually, she was the life and soul of the party, but come to think of it, he had hardly seen her all evening. He approached her and took the seat beside her.

"What's going on?" he asked, trying to impress a subtle kindness in his voice.

"Nothing", she said, drying her tears with her dress. "It's silly."

Severus tilted his head.

"I wouldn't expect anything less. Now tell me what has you upset."

She smiled through her sadness and nodded her head.

"Draco is moving in with Jessica."

"It's about time he flew the nest. He's twenty-six. Don't you approve?"

"I love Jess", Narcissa said. "I'll just be lonely."

Severus shrugged.

"Loneliness isn't so bad."

Narcissa patted his thigh.

"Yes, it is. You know it is. Don't be lonely, Severus."

As she moved towards him, he felt a flicker of unease. The way that her eyes graced his face as though she was trying to settle on something that wasn't there. And before he knew exactly what she was doing, her lips were soft on the corner of his mouth. He caught the kiss by instinct and returned it for one divine and disorienting second before he realised that the mouth at his lips did not belong to _her_.

 _It's always her. Always, Hermione._

Severus broke the kiss and stared at Narcissa, baffled and fearful. He didn't know how to approach her. Not knowing how to navigate the next five minutes without tearing holes in the life he had built for himself.

"Erm... I'm sorry, Treasure", he said gently. "I can't."

"Why not?" she said, curling her hand around his. "Lucius won't mind."

"He will, but that's not the point."

"What _is_ the point? Don't you miss it? Miss us?" she asked, running her hands across his thighs. "Tell me you don't want me. Give me one good reason why we shouldn't."

His answer came before he had hardly a conscious thought.

"I'm in love with Hermione", he blurted. "… You know that."

She dropped her hands then and her mouth split into a grin that sent wrinkles to the corners of her eyes. He narrowed his, as he took in her expression.

"You're right, love. I do know that", she said, tapping him twice on the thigh. "I just wanted to make sure _you_ did."

And the penny dropped as Narcissa pulled herself upright and dusted off her dress. It was the first time he had said it aloud. The first time he had ever dared to admit it. But Narcissa had known, as she always did.

"You bitch."

Narcissa grinned brighter still and raised her eyebrows.

"So, Severus, now that we've established that you're in love with her...", she said. And at once her face was serious as she folded her arms, "... now what are you going to do about it?"

 _Fucking hell._

 _These women are going to kill me._

:

 **H.**

Severus darkened the doorway like a shadow, taking all of the light from the room, and all the air from her lungs. He was beautiful, more so than even last night. It wasn't fair. His black eyes were ink pots from which she could draw the prettiest pictures. He hitched his sleeves up to his elbows and ran his hands through his hair.

"Severus?"

She saw the lightning flash on his face before she heard the thunder.

"Before you ask, no I don't know what I'm doing here. All I know is that I can't stop thinking about you."

 _Oh god. What are you trying to do to me?_

"I broke things off with Cressida."

"What are you saying?"

He swept into the room and Hermione's feet rooted to the ground, pinned under the weight of his stare. He stepped so close that she could hear his breathing; quick and shallow. Hermione felt hers follow its timbre as he lifted his hand and for a moment she thought he might touch her. Her skin prickled from his potential alone. His face was tortured and torn.

"I can't take it", he breathed, and its air traced the skin of her neck turning it to gooseflesh.

Her heart began to thrash as though caught in the claws of a wild animal.

"I've tried so hard not to think about you", he said. "But you have burrowed so deep into my heart that every pounding beat is agony. I thought I wanted something simple. I don't. I want you."

 _Don't say it if you don't mean it._

She took his hand and placed it flat on her chest so that he could feel the pounding for herself. He met her gaze as she surveyed him and his eyebrows drew together as though he was in pain. She felt it too. The absolute agony of their desperation. His hand rose and fell as her chest below it heaved, pushing him out then pulling him back in.

"You're mad!" he said. "Do you know that? Absolutely barking. And yet you must have pulled me into your absurdity, Hermione, because damn it, if I am not completely in love with you."

Her lips parted and the voice that left her lips was all breath and epiphany.  
"You love me?"

"Yes", he said as he ran his fingers across her collarbone. "What's the use in fighting it? I love you. So be it."

Her breathing hitched as his hands swept up to her neck and he wrapped his fingers possessively around its curve.

 _Yes, I'm yours._

"You love me?" she asked again.

And then everything happened at once.

He made towards her until she was pressed to the wall with his body flat against hers. His lips were on her mouth and his hands were on her waist; he pressed his fingers into her skin as though he clung to her body for his life. It gave her a sick sense of power to know that he held her like she physically sustained him. Then she felt his skin on her skin as he pulled her in to his chest and rested his cheek on hers. His face fell into her shoulder and as he gently tugged on her sleeve, he rested his lips on the base of her neck. His mouth was hot and as he grazed his teeth across the length of her shoulder she felt her nipples peak under her shirt.

 _All yours. Always yours._

He moved backwards a fraction so that she could not move, but he could slip a hand underneath her shirt and she felt a tingle like electricity as he swept it up to her chest. He thumbed the flesh of her breast until he found her nipple, and as her lips parted in a sigh, he groaned. As she closed her eyes, the world outside seemed to fade into obscurity until all there was, was this moment. All there was, was Severus.

:

 **S.**

 _Don't close your eyes. Look at me. I want to see your face._

As he moved his hand across her chest, he felt her nipple spike beneath his palm and he knew he had her. He placed his free hand flat against the curve of her waist and ran down her flank until he felt the waistband of her jeans as he slipped his fingers between the denim and her skin, he felt his blood flush to his dick, and when she looked at him as though she knew, the little sense that remained, deserted him. Three words circled around his mind as though he was trying to make sense of them.

 _I love you. I love you. I love you._

She pushed him off her and for a moment he thought that she going to reject him again, until she took hold of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She threw it to the ground and he recognised the urgency of her movement. She too, was desperate and damned. In the many different ways he had imagined their reconnection playing out, he had always been the one to undress her. He had savoured it, slowly and carefully. But as she tugged off her jeans, never once breaking her gaze, as though daring him to do the same, he didn't care for the fantasy he had created. This was better. It was real. She moved towards him, reaching her hand for the buttons of his shirt and bit her lower lip, her teeth tracing its fullness. He had not played along quick enough. She was impatient.

As she pulled apart his shirt, the patter of his heart beneath stopped and started. It was as though the shock of her hands on his chest had surged, breaking the circuit and it needed to power itself back on. As her palms moved down to his stomach, she peppered kisses across his chest. When her hands met the buttons of his trousers, he pulled his stomach muscles taut. She took her time with each one as though she meant to torture him and as her lips curved into its pretty little arc, he knew she was playing with him.

 _This is a game to you?_

He grabbed his wand from his pocket, wrapped his arms around her waist and with a flick of his wand he plunged them both into darkness. When he opened his eyes, they were bathed in the evening light that crept through the curtains of Hermione's bedroom _._

:

 **H.**

Severus sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hands flat on his thighs. All of the urgency flooded from Hermione's body.

 _So... Is that it? We're done? Was it good for you?_

Hermione rolled her eyes but as she took in the severity of his features, she felt hers respond as a mirror.

 _What's happening?_

Her face asked her question, but when he did not answer she sat beside him on the bed and placed her hand on his chin and tilted it towards her.

"If we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly", he said, and although he spoke as a command, there was the faintest tremor in his voice that leaked his vulnerability.

"What do you mean?"

His reply came as a kiss; light and long. She opened her mouth to return it and his tongue swept across hers. He placed his hand at her waist and ran his other through her hair, tucking it behind her ear. He kissed her cheek and traced the line of her jaw with his tongue. She closed her eyes, and felt the urgency creep back into her bones, as he spoke just above a whisper.

"I want to do it right this time."

:

 **S.**

He looked at her face and took in her beauty as though he had never seen it before. It surprised him how much he just wanted to look at her, having been denied it the last time.

"I don't want to wake up tomorrow morning in an empty bed. You can't run out on me again. I couldn't take it."

"I didn't run out—", she said but her argument disappeared, as she said "oh", as though she'd understood something.

He placed his hand in her lap and she wrapped her fingers around it, lifted it to her mouth and she kissed it. His head rolled back on his shoulder as she moved her mouth across his palm. He surrendered to it, not wanting to break their momentum, but he knew that he needed to impress the importance of their union. The last time had damn near killed him. He wouldn't do it again.

"I love you", he said. "Do you understand what I am saying? This means something to me."

Hermione nodded and she moved off the bed and parted his legs with her knee so that she stood between them. She held his head in her hands, a palm on each cheek, and she kissed him.

"I know. I'm not going anywhere."

 _Say it back. Tell me you love me too. Not that it matters. I know that you do._

:

 **H.**

Hermione led him to the bed and he kicked off his trousers before climbing in beside her. She placed her hand on his stomach again and then slid her hands down, following the trial of his hair until she was inside his boxers. She wrapped her fingers around his cock and breathed a happy sigh as he groaned at her touch and his head snapped to attention. He thrust into her hand and she allowed herself to laugh at his eagerness. She revelled in the magic of his fullness in her hand. She had spent so long waiting for this moment; it was all she could do not to straddle him right there. He moved in towards her and kissed her as she began to move her hand. He spoke vowels of satisfaction on her lips and as she picked up her pace, he growled. She lay back so that she could take him in her mouth, as she worked him.

"I want to look at you", he said.

It was this that forced her to consider the weight behind the words, 'I want to do it right this time'. What 'you can't run out on me' really meant.

 _I have hurt him. I knew he wanted me to stay, I could see it in his eyes, but he told me to leave. I did as I was told. I always do as I'm fucking told. I should have stayed. God, I wish I'd stayed. I'm yours, Severus. Always yours. Say it. Tell him!_

"Then look at me", she said. "This is where I want to be. There is nobody else. There is only you."

 _There was only ever you…_

"There was… only ever you."

He nodded and she lifted herself up on the bed so that she sat on top of him with her legs either side of his hips. She kissed him, hoping that should could convey without words how very unlike their last time this was. She couldn't bring herself to say it, but it danced on the tip of her tongue, desperate to find its audience.

 _I love you too._

She pulled Severus' wand from where he had left it at her bedside and with a quick flick of her wrist, she removed their clothes; the last barrier that stood between them and their temporary happy ending. She backed down the bed and sat to his side. She placed purposeful kisses on his stomach and his jutting hipbones. She traced her lips down his shaft and held the base in her hands. She pushed back the skin just a little and ran the tip of her tongue across his tip. He hissed and she felt his hands in her hair.

 _I thought you might like that._

She felt her grin, sore in her cheeks, as his body began to respond to her, and he grew fuller still in her hand. He wrapped his hands around her hair as she moved her mouth up and down on his cock. He did not push her, but he guided her, stroking her head to show what he liked and gently pulling her hair when he wanted her to pause, not wanting to reach his ending so soon.

He moved to return the favour and Hermione snapped her legs shut. He looked up at her with a confused smile on his face.

"No?" he asked. "You don't like it?"

"I don't know if I like it..." she said, feeling her cheeks flush with her foolishness.

Severus' lips parted as he looked at her.

"Weasley never...? "

Hermione shook her head.

"Well then, he really _is_ an idiot."

Severus ran his hands across the back of her calves and kissed their front, moving his mouth up the length of her leg so that he nuzzled into the insides of her thighs. She felt her legs begin to tremble, with nerves and anticipation. He stroked her in soothing circles and looked up at her. Her interest piqued as he kisses fluttered across her thighs.

"You think I'll like it?"

"You'll love it. Do you trust me?"

She parted her legs by way of response and he moved his kisses up to her folds.

"You're trembling", he said. "Are you scared?"

She shrugged, and he stroked her thighs with his fingers as he smiled at her.

"It's just me", he said.

"I'm not afraid. I'm just nervous."

He took her hand in his and held it on her stomach as he found her hollow and gently placed a finger at her entry.

"Is this okay?" he said.

Hermione panted her reply and he slowly pushed the finger inside, as he flashed his tongue across her bud. He moved in circles, and then lines - diagonal, horizontal, vertical - as though she were a word search he desperately wanted to fill in.

 _Oh God!_

First, she felt the feeling in her core, and then it blistered into all of her nerve endings until she felt as though his tongue teased her whole body. It was new and confusing and breath-taking all at once. Her back lifted from the bed of its own accord, as he concentrated his kiss at her core; each movement sent another ache of pleasure through her body.

"Severus? Oh God. What are you doing to me?"

The ache built and built as he moved his mouth across her clit, and drove his fingers inside her, until it was a pulsing, cascading burst of energy. She felt herself succumb to whatever it was he was doing to her that felt so... fucking... good. Her whole body curved in response as her mind went blank, her muscles braced, and she threw her head back into the pillow.

As she lay flat on the bed, stock-still except for her legs that shook more so than even before - not with nerves, with something else she couldn't understand - she was flooded with multiple, conflicting emotions. She couldn't explain why - could hardly string together enough thoughts to rationalise it - but she felt a lump in her throat and she cursed herself as she began to cry.

Severus moved up the bed to lie beside her. He did not say a word, and although he looked a little concerned, he did not question her, nor did he push her to continue. He simply let her feel her feelings, and held her until they passed. She felt her cheeks grow hot and after all of the inexplicable emotions cleared, she was left only with the logical; embarrassment.

"I don't understand why I'm crying. I'm not sad", she said.

He nodded.

"It's normal, I suppose. It can be overwhelming sometimes".

"What can be overwhelming? Hang on... was that...?"

He snorted his derision.

"Are you seriously telling me that Weasley never made you come?"

"I... err- Oh. No?"

Hermione's hands flew to her parted lips and Severus chuckled beside her.

"Oh god!"

"Sounds like we have a lot of catching up to do", he said and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in for another devastating kiss that told her that she wouldn't be sleeping any time soon.

Not that that was such a crying shame. Hermione could hardly understand why anyone would sleep - how anyone _could_ \- knowing there was such magic in the universe.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN:** Now for something a little different.

Narcissa's POV is marked with N.  
Lucius with L.

* * *

18\. Serpents

 **L.**

Narcissa Black was without a doubt the most fascinating, sensual and beautiful woman Lucius Malfoy had ever seen in his life. She was charming and engaging, and unlike any woman he had known before, he found that she made him laugh. He fancied that she returned his interest, because she would steal his glances from across the room, and when he finally built the courage to cross the floor and ask her to dance, she agreed. The only small hitch in their otherwise flawless tale of love-at-first-sight was that she belonged to another man. A man, that it happened, was his friend - his best friend, if he was being honest with himself - being a Death Eater hardly lent itself to opportunities to create meaningful friendships.

Severus Snape was something of an oddball. He wasn't like his other friends - where Yaxley and Lestrange were predictable in their darkness - Severus was an enigma; never doing quite what was expected. He didn't revel in debauchery, which, Lucius felt was the best part of being a Death Eater. Nor did Severus seem to enjoy the violence, which was a close second. There was money to be had - stolen, he supposed - but Severus was not lavish in the slightest. He did not take what he did not feel he was owed. He was humble - or perhaps, insecure - given that modesty is only so when the person is aware of their gift. Severus was either unaware of his magical skill, or he was reluctant to use it. It seemed to Lucius that Snape had in fact, become a Death Eater simply for the power and privilege of being one. He wondered if Severus had, above all else, welcomed The Dark Lord, because he thought it would impress this woman. And Lucius could understand moving heaven and earth, to do just that.

Severus was a half-blood, which Lucius could hardly understand, given that Miss Black was of a most pure lineage, like himself. If Snape knew just how out of his league his woman was, he did not show it. He was quite comfortable with her. Happy to show her off to the other Death Eaters, many of whom did not mind sharing with a friend. Severus, however, did not share, nor did she want to be shared. And so this silver beauty, this gorgeous creature, was not to be borrowed - nor to be owned - she was only to be cherished by a keeper; a single keeper. He fancied she was a patronus - a burst of white light and blinding happiness. As he danced with her, she felt right at home in his arms, as though she belonged there. Almost, he thought, as though she was made for him. Not that he believed in a maker, per se, but he might be swayed, if he was able to convince her to leave the clutches of the bat. She belonged with him, for he was a peacock, and she, he fancied, was a swan.

 _Birds of a feather._

How Severus Snape had nabbed this woman first was a mystery, no, an absolute travesty, but as luck - or perhaps, destiny - would have it, Severus became a scapegoat for The Dark Lord, and was imprisoned in Azkaban for three months. It was just for the summer, but in the summer women are hot and broody, he found, and she was no exception. She was lonely without him, and so he stepped in, in Severus' stead and began to woo her. He had to employ a different strategy with her; she would not be so easily swayed. Of course, she enjoyed his gifts of brooches and jewellery; women of her bloodline were always drawn to shiny things, but she was not the kind of woman on whom his typical, lacklustre seduction techniques would work. She was far too smart, far too special, to fall for his usual tricks. When Severus kissed her farewell, and said his goodbyes, she did not weep. She wasn't cold, nor was she detached. No, she was simply independent; she did not rely on anyone and she would not fall apart without him. She was quite comfortable on her own. Fascinating, she was; a woman unlike any other. And damn it, if he wasn't falling desperately in love with her.

:

 **N.**

Narcissa Malfoy had been blessed with three incredible loves in her life. She knew that she was lucky, some people don't even get one. Those who do find one, often do not end up with them, and they have their hearts ripped from their body. Narcissa's heart was, and always had been, quite safe; quite whole. She married her third and final love - her _great_ love - and her husband was the most attentive, most provocative man she had ever met.

Lucius embodied all of the things that she found attractive, he was whip-smart and devilishly handsome; well-off, and glad to shower her in expensive gifts, but neither was he afraid to be treated to gifts of his own. He approached her as an equal, rather than something to possess. Neither did he try to dominate her. He was quite comfortable in both roles, assertive or submissive depending on what the situation demanded. He was both masculine and feminine, she fancied, neither one nor the other, but still, very much a man. He was not possessive, or jealous, allowing her to stray outside the marriage, if the desire so took her, as long as she understood that she was to return to him. And she did, every time. Because she liked men; the way they looked, the way they smelt, how they felt underneath her, but she _loved_ her husband.

He was, however, not without fault. He was a man of two extremes. He was bold and adventurous, but he was also reckless and tactless. On the flip side, he was a coward; often ill-prepared to face the consequences of his foolishness. He was never more happy than he was at home, smoking his cigars, drinking his brandy, eating his fill of her Sunday dinner, and for dessert, he had _her_ on the dining table. It was his recklessness, that was the only weed in their otherwise perfectly tended garden. He didn't think through his actions, always so quick to act. He was a creature of impulse. If he wanted something, he had to have it. He did not like to be told no. Fortunately for Lucius, rarely was he denied.

When he had set his sights on her, she had belonged to another. It had been most unfortunate, she knew, but from the moment she had seen him across the room at one of The Lestranges' parties - an excuse to show off the new decor - the room became a backdrop to the story of their attraction. Severus was tending to The Dark Lord, as often he did as his favourite, and so she sat at the side of the room, hoping that he would return to ask her to dance. Not that Severus would ever do such a thing. He had all of the rhythm of a staggering drunk, even when perfectly sober. But the man that approached and asked her to dance was not her boyfriend, no, he was older, quite beautiful; proud and silver, like a hippogriff. She took his hand without a second thought, and as he held her, he moved her across the room like they had practiced this dance every day of their lives. All thoughts of her commitment banished, just for one glorious song; his bright light, casting Severus to the shadows.

Her first love was, she supposed, more intense than the one that followed shortly after. Perhaps her heart _had_ taken something of a beating that first time, with that first ending. But it had been _her_ decision, and so although Tobin Rogers had his hand on her heart, it had been she who had wrapped her fingers around his, and pulled away. He was devastated, she knew, but she was not without reason. Her mother and father did not approve of the match; her sister, was even less impressed. Bella feared that Tobin was dishonest about his blood status. He claimed it was 'pure', born to two noble houses, but Bella did not believe him. She had quizzed him rather intently and concluded that he was a liar. She had heard of neither the Rogers on his father's side, nor the French family he claimed to have on his mother's. It wasn't enough to end the relationship, but it did make her question it. What sort of life could they have together if her family didn't approve? She didn't want to go the same way as Andromeda and be burned from the family portrait.

He was twenty, she twenty-three, when unfounded suspicions of infidelity began to surface. She had been with men before, it was true. Her bloodline was pure, but her bed-sheets hardly were. That said, she had been with Tobin, and _only_ Tobin, ever since he had requested her commitment to him. She was loyal, and she always honoured contracts - and an agreement of fidelity was contract enough. His suspicions became accusations, until she could no longer stand it. He did not know _who_ she was supposedly fooling around with, but he was sure that she was with _somebody._ When his accusations became outbursts of anger, she no longer felt safe, having learned from her father, who had beat the lesson into her every other day since adolescence, that angry men, quickly become violent men. She had seen her fair share of violence, ever since Bella had brought her to the attention of The Dark Lord, but she had never agreed to be a victim of it. Nor, she decided, would she be a perpetrator. The Dark Lord agreed. She was useful in other ways. Charming and a natural negotiator. She could talk anyone into anything. Who needed the Imperius curse when you were so damn beautiful. And so, as gently as possible, she ended the relationship with Tobin, and disappeared to The Dark Lord's side, safe under his protection for as long as he would grant it.

:

 **L.**

The woman with whom he shared a bed was not Narcissa. She was dark and soft and autumn in all of the places that Narcissa was light and sharp and winter. The way his wife's silver hair draped across her shoulders, and fell into his face as she made love to him from above was a magic like nobody could ever rival. The woman in the bed was called Amy, he thought, or perhaps Annie. He hoped Amy, as Annie was hardly a name for a grown woman. Amy or Annie rolled into her side and her tits folded under her armpits, into the pillows and it looked hardly comfortable. How could anyone sleep with great big bags under their chest? She was definitely asleep because she began to stir, and snore and Lucius felt his morning wood turn to mulch.

He stood up from the bed and pulled a robe from the back of the door, then grabbed the sheets from the foot of the bed and snatched them off her body.

"Time to leave", he said, coldly. "I told you that my wife is due to return at eight sharp and it is seven forty-five. If you are still here when she arrives, she will kill you."

The woman, Amy or Annie, wrapped her arms around her breasts instinctively, even as she blinked away the night before.

 _Abby? Perhaps it was Abby. Doesn't matter, I'll never see her again._

She sulked as she pulled on her clothes, trying to shield her naked body from him like she hadn't been on all fours, panting in front of him, just hours before.

"Why would she kill me?" she asked. "I thought your wife knew that you were sleeping around?"

"I do not sleep around", he snipped and the woman shrugged.

"What was _I_ then?"

" _You_ were sleeping around. What I do is different. Narcissa and I have an agreement; an understanding per se", he drawled. "However her understanding will not extend to you. She does not know you. She loves me, and so I will be welcomed with open arms. You... a closed fist. Do you understand?"

"Really?"

"Oh, yes", Lucius said, his tone thick with his pleasure. "She is not above a brawl for my affections. It is part of the play, you see? But you are far more comely than most women I bring home, and so I cannot promise that she will not be a little jealous. And she loves a good hex, does my wife."

"Are you serious?" the woman asked.

"Absolutely", he said, proudly. "She's magnificent."

"So, she just lets you bring other people into her bed?"

Lucius laughed.

"You think this tiny room is our bedroom? No, dear, this is the third guest room."

"I would hardly call it tiny", she said. "It's bigger than my house."

"Oh", Lucius said, with a grimace. "Well, never mind. Off you go back to your tiny abode."

:

 **N.**

Upon returning home, Narcissa found Lucius in his red robe, which she had hung on the back of the guest bedroom door, and so she knew that he had found someone with whom to take his pleasure. There was something rather exciting, knowing that they had both been elsewhere the night before, but Lucius did not want to talk about the woman, which meant that she was pretty. Not that it mattered.

 _What is pretty? Daisies are pretty. They are weeds all the same._

Lucius took her in his arms on the chaise and they lay entwined as Lucius smoked a cigar, reading the paper and Narcissa listened to music on the radio as she flipped through Witch Weekly.

"Anything worth knowing?" Narcissa asked.

"Not in the slightest, Darling", Lucius said, with a bored drawl. "There's been some trouble at the Ministry. Something to do with legislation. Nothing worth a second glance. Skeeter must be running out of people to misquote."

"Oh, you're quite right. How boring", she said and she returned to her magazine.

"How about in your rag?" he asked, with a cheeky smile. "Any gossip to be had?"

"Yes", she said. "It's quite exciting. Did you know that seven years ago, someone called Severus Snape was something called a Death Eater, and he did something _unforgivable_ to someone called Albus Dumbledore?"

Lucius grabbed his chest, facetiously.

"Oh good Lord", he said. "Well, I never."

"Speaking of Severus," she said, with a falter to her voice she did not anticipate. "I kissed him."

"When?"

"Last night at the party."

Lucius' eyes darkened, and she fancied for a second that the grey flitted green.

"Oh?" he said. "And did you sleep with him?"

"Not a chance", Narcissa said with a gentle laugh that soothed her husband, who placed her hands possessively around her waist. "No, I... _propositioned_ him."

"Ah", he said, with understanding. "Beautifully played, Darling. He declined, I assume, on the grounds that he had feelings for the muggleborn?"

"Not quite", she said. "He declined on the grounds, that he is _in love_ with her."

He groaned excitedly.

"Oh, you're brilliant", he said and he ran his hands across her waist, down to her hips and he clutched her with needy fingers. "You are a serpent through and through; so clever, so devious."

Narcissa batted her lashes and shrugged, happily.

"I do try."

"I left a gift for you on your dressing table", Lucius said, his eyes filled with menace, as they always were before a duel, or intimacy. "Not to spoil the surprise, but they are emeralds, in a little box beside your hairbrush."

"My favourite as you well know", she said, tracing her hands along the long line of his spine.

"I want to see you in them", he said. "And nothing else."

:

 **L.**

"Darling, I would ask you a question", Lucius said at breakfast. "But I will understand if it is not something you wish to talk about."

"Okay, love. You know we have no secrets. But if the secret is someone else's..."

"Then your exquisite lips are sealed", he said. "Yes, I would expect no less."

He shifted on the chair as he peeled his grapefruit.

"I was wondering about something Severus said."

"Ah, well, that might be a problem..."

"Yes, I know you have his confidence, and I do so wish that I did too. I will, of course, accept your refusal, but I want you to tell me about Lily."

"What about her?"

Lucius had the feeling that she was beginning to grow tired of his skirting around the subject, but he knew he had to approach this with tact, something of which, admittedly, he had rather little.

"Severus loved her and The Dark Lord murdered her? Correct?"

"Yes, Darling. We discussed that."

"Yes, we did. However, I was left with the feeling that perhaps there was something left unsaid. Something that I was not privy to. Now of course, I am not asking you to tell me what it was", he said, quick to acknowledge this overstep, "but I was thinking..."

"You know that's dangerous", she said with a coy smile and ran her feet up his trouser leg.

"Stop trying to change the subject, woman. Twenty-seven years I have loved you. Do not think that I can't see right through your tricks."

He winked at her and she gave a happy little sigh.

"Oh, you flirt. Fine", she said. "What were you thinking?"

"Severus loves Hermione. He has finally admitted as much..."

Narcissa nodded and poured herself a cup of tea as he continued.

"And I was right, was I not, when I said that he believes that his love is what killed Lily?"

"Yes, Darling. He agreed with you."

"He did. He also agreed that he was protecting Hermione by not admitting his feelings for her. So, my question naturally follows. Does he believe that his love for her... will be a detriment... to her... to both of them?"

Narcissa stirred sweetener into her tea and sat back on her chair.

"... I suppose."

"Then they are doomed", he said, bitterly. "He will continue to guard himself. He will continue to act as though his affection will harm her. He will be standoffish. He will be Severus and he will... _Severus_ it all up."

Narcissa grimaced.

"But I will not have it, Narcissa", he snipped. "Do you hear me?"

She blinked, holding her cup to her lips without drinking. Lucius straightened up, proudly on his seat and cleared his throat.

"My apologies, Darling. I let my emotions run away with me for a moment, there."

"Yes, you did", she said with a smile. "But I enjoyed the display. Tell me, love. What is it that you are planning? I see your cogs whirring. Today it is _you_ who has on the meddlesome face."

Lucius chuckled to himself as he added a splash of cold water to his coffee.

"No, I will leave the meddling up to you, my queen, for you are so accomplished at it. No. All I am saying", he said, narrowing his eyes a touch, "is that Hermione was hurt here in our home. We can re-decorate a thousand times, it will not erase the past. We owe her. And Severus... he is our friend and we love him, yes?"

"Yes", Narcissa said with a sharp nod of fiery approval.

"Then we cannot let him hurt her... or himself..."

"I agree, Darling", she said. "I want nothing more than _his_ happiness, and a chance to atone for what we let happen to _her_ here in our house, at the hands of my sister."

Narcissa's face fell at her words and Lucius reached across the table and took his wife's hand.

"I know that you feel guilty, my love. And perhaps you should, but do not. Not anymore. The world has changed and we with it" he said, squeezing her fingers; her beautiful, flirtatious fingers. "We all change. We must. Adapt or die."

She smiled meekly, and he moved his chair around the table so that he could be near to her. To place his hand under her chin, lift it to his lips. To draw her kiss to his mouth. She was so fucking beautiful. Even after all these years, he loved her.

"I love you now as I always have", he said. "And I have seen you take many forms. You are a constantly evolving creature and I have loved each and every evolution. But _this_ Narcissa; this brave, clever, meddlesome woman that sits before- she is my favourite. Do you understand? You are the best you have ever been."

Her cheeks reddened, and he felt himself sit tall in his seat. Proud that he could make his woman blush, still after all this time.

"We will make amends", Lucius said, "… to both of them."

:

 **N.**

"To both of them", he said, and Narcissa realised that her husband's guilt did not necessarily lie at Hermione's feet alone, but at Severus'.

Narcissa dropped her cup into the saucer and placed her hand on her husband's cheek.

"Lucius- you feel guilty about how we came to be together? Still? After all this time?"

Lucius ran his fingers across the sharp lines of his wife's jaw and kissed her.

"I, of course, do not regret it", he said, "but yes. He was in love with you and I stole you from him."

She narrowed her eyes playfully.

"I do not belong to any man", she said, "least of all, Severus Snape. You did not steal me, Darling, I came willingly. I was yours from the moment you asked me to dance."

"Likewise, my darling girl. Likewise", he said, running his hands through the strands of spun silver that hung across her shoulders. "But that is not the only cause of my shame. You see, I was the one who told the Dark Lord that Potter and his wife were with child. It was our conversation that convinced him to go after the boy. I didn't expect him to kill a baby, mind you. But as such, I have been wondering, perhaps it was me that sent him after Lily. And therefore, I have stolen away his love, not once, but twice."

"Severus begged for her life. It was foolish at best, and a god damn death wish at worst. I am surprised that only one of them died. It was Severus who brought the prophecy to him. So, my question is… do you believe that Severus is the reason she died? Do you think he should blame himself for her death?"

Lucius sat upright on his chair.

"Absolutely not", he said. "The Dark Lord would have killed her anyway."

"Exactly, Darling", Narcissa said, stroking her husband's chest to soothe him. "You are no more to blame than Severus. The only person to blame for Lily's death is The Dark Lord. And he cannot make amends given that he is long dead."

"Good riddance", Lucius drawled. "He was horribly boring towards the end. Never wanted to have any fun. Just 'kill Potter', all the time, 'kill Potter'. I mean, had he never heard of a hobby? Perhaps he would have liked to take up chess or needlepoint?"

"Darling, you are being silly now", Narcissa said. "What is it that you are avoiding?"

Lucius sighed.

"How well you know me. Yes, I was thinking, that as much as _you_ do not think I am to blame for Lily's death… I wonder if Severus would feel the same if he knew…"

Narcissa picked up her tea and took a sip.

"Why don't you find out?"

:

 **L.**

Draco and Jessica appeared in the fireplace one after the other. They dusted themselves down and took a seat at the breakfast table.

"What are we having?" Draco asked, pulling a slice of toast from the rack. "Mother, you know that I prefer white."

"I didn't know you were coming, son", she said and shared a look of exasperation with Jessica who smiled happily.

"Brown is better for you, Draco", Jessica said, before turning to Narcissa and asking "may I?"

Narcissa handed over the jar of damson jam and Jessica set out about spreading it on her toast.

"So what were you two talking about?" Draco asked. "You looked rather serious when we came in."

"That's absolutely none of your business, son", Lucius drawled, as he poked open the yolk on his poached egg.

"A friend", Narcissa said, "and his relationship woes among other things."

"Oh, you mean Severus and Hermione?" Draco asked.

Narcissa all but choked on her tea.

"Excuse me? How do you know about that?"

Draco's eyes flew wide open and Lucius got the feeling that Jessica had just swiftly kicked him under the table to keep him quiet. Jessica sighed.

"Severus was pining over a woman who had a boyfriend and began dating someone else, right?"

"And Hermione has had a lot to say about a man that started dating another woman...", Jessica finished.

"We put two and two together", said Draco, pleased with himself.

Lucius rolled his eyes.

"I'm surprised. I didn't know that Arithmancy was your strong suit, my boy. I should congratulate you both on your detective skills. Perhaps there is a job for you in the Department of Mysteries."

"No, thanks", Jessica said. "Working for the ministry? How horribly boring…"

Lucius' lips curled into a sly smile, as he said, " _I_ work for the Ministry."

Jessica narrowed her eyes and glared at him, playfully.

"… Yeah, I know."

"Oh", Lucius said with a grin. "You're one of us…"

Jessica shrugged happily. It was, he supposed, the first time he'd ever been open with his approval for the girl. And he did approve. What she saw in Draco he would never know. Lucius turned to his son.

"Marry her."


	17. Chapter 17

17\. Stalked

 **S.**

Waking up next to Hermione failed to lose its novelty even a week after the first time. Severus would watch her, studying the rise of her chest and hold his breath, until it fell. She was beautiful in her pleasure, but more beautiful still in her comfort, curled in his sheets, her hair strewn across his pillow. She was as lovely now, muttering to herself in her sleep, as she had been the night before, as he'd looked down on her, her legs wrapped around his hips as he brought her to her peak. When her eyes opened, she studied his face with concern and then as he smiled, she did too. She rolled onto her side, pulling Severus down beside her, and closing his eyes, he surrendered heavy fog of early morning.

He fell to sleep in golden hues and awoke with a jerk to bright, piercing white light. Severus shook himself awake as the noise that had stirred him came again. Someone was knocking - no, hammering - on his door. Hermione shot up in the bed and grabbed her wand from the nightstand.

"It's just the door", Severus said, pulling open the dresser drawers, and searching for something to wear.

He threw Hermione an old band t-shirt, so old that he could hardly recall a song by said band, and she grabbed it and curled back up into the bed. He tugged on his trousers, as he hopped down the stairs and the pounding on the door came again.

 _Alright, I'm coming!_

Just as he approached the door, the knocking came a third time.

 _Oh my God,_ he thought, as he snatched open the door. _Somebody had better be dead._

"... Cressida?"

Cressida stood on the doorstep with a happy little smile on her face as she looked him up and down.

"Did I wake you?" she asked. "It's past nine."

He held his hand out to stop her as she moved to cross the threshold.

"What are you doing here? Do we have plans I'm not aware of?"

She shook her head and patted him on his chest. Her hand was warm, and a little clammy on his skin.

"I just thought I'd stop by. I haven't heard from you for a while."

 _Yes. That was quite by design._

Severus stepped in front of her, blocking her path again, and she let out a perplexed little laugh that he found wormed right under his skin.

"Cressida", he said, with all of the kindness, he could muster, "I'm sorry. I don't understand. What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd cook you breakfast?" she said, and her thin eyebrows furrowed, as though she had absolutely no idea what line she had crossed.

"Why?" he asked again, slack-jawed, completely baffled by this show of domesticity. "The last time we spoke—"

"Oh, all is forgiven", she said, batting the air. "Water under the bridge."

 _No. Not under the bridge. Very much over the fucking bridge._

"Cressida. I'm sorry, I think you—"

But he did not a get chance to finish, as the buzzing of the alarm clock drew both of their attention up the stairs, and Cressida used the distraction to enter his home. She began to move around it, as though she belonged there, but he couldn't recall ever having her in his home.

 _I do drink a lot..._

"Have you been here before?" he asked, as she stepped through the hallway, into the living room and dropped her bag at the side of the sofa.

"No, I haven't. Oh, this is lovely."

"Thank you", he said stiffly.

"I've missed you", she said.

 _Oh God, does she think we're still together?_

"Cressida. Listen to me," Severus said. "We should talk."

"Aren't you going to offer me a cup of tea, first?" she said sweetly, as she simpered.

 _Oh, it's so awkward._

"I know that we have a lot to straighten—"

She didn't finish her sentence, as she began to look around the room and take in the obvious signs of another houseguest. Hermione's shoes tucked under the armchair. Hermione's underwear on the floor where he had removed them last night before taking her to his bed. Hermione's beaded bag, too feminine to pass as his, open on the coffee table.

 _Are you going to try to pass off the knickers as yours too?_

 _God, I ended this. I did end this. I did._

 _Did I?_

"Severus", she said in a small voice, "do you have someone here?"

He considered telling her the truth.

 _Would a lie be kinder?_

 _Yes,_ he decided, _a lie would be kinder,_ as Hermione's oblivious footsteps sounded on the stairs. Severus hung his head.

"Yes. Hermione. You remember I told you about her?"

"Did she stay the night?"

"Like I told you…" Severus said, "…we need to talk."

Her face burst pink as she forced herself not to cry. She blew deep breaths from her cheeks that puffed out and retracted. Severus summoned a couple of glasses, and a bottle of whisky from the kitchen and urged her to sit down.

"I know it's a little early", he said, "but I think we need this."

She pushed the glass away, but it kept nudging at her side until she grabbed it by the stem and slammed it into the coffee table.

"Oh god. Okay", she said. "Okay. I'm sorry. I suppose that we never said we were exclusive..."

She patted her puffy cheeks with the back of her hand.

"You are well within your rights", she said, and Severus felt his mouth drop agape like it was ripe to catch flies. "You should know, however, that I only date exclusively. So, if you will please ask her to leave, we can talk about this."

Never in his life had Severus gaped, but here he was, utterly fucking flabbergasted.

"Cressida, I think you should leave", he said, bewildered. "I don't—"

"Yes, quite right", she interrupted, nodding. "Get rid of the girl whenever is convenient and I will come back later. Let her down gently, Severus, be kind."

 _You're crazy. You're actually insane._

Severus cleared his throat.

"It is you who I must let down gently".

 _Very fucking gently. What did Lucius say about my balls? I am quite attached to them._

"What do you mean?" she asked.

 _What? What is happening?_

"Cressida…", he said, as kindly as he could manage. "We spoke last week, do you remember? I told you things weren't working…"

"Yes!" she snapped. "I'm not slow. I remember our conversation. I just figured you needed time to come around. Maybe you needed space…"

 _How do I handle this?_

 _Honesty. She deserves honesty._

"I'm sorry, Cressida, no. I'm with Hermione now."

"… You're together?"

Her bottom lip began to tremble, and Severus swallowed his guilt.

"Yes. I'm sorry", he said. "I'm in love with her."

 _I'm in love with her! I love her. I want everyone to know. I want to fucking yell it from the top of the astronomy tower._

"I'm sorry", he said.

She began to shake her head and muttered, "no, not possible, no", to herself, and as his words sunk in and took their effect, she became utterly still. Then he heard it, an intake of breath so sharp, he felt that she meant to stab him with it, but it wasn't anger, he realised, because then followed a long, pathetic wail of grief. He had never heard anything like it. He had seen people tortured who made less of a fuss as she sobbed, her body wracking with absolute devastation.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing", she said between deep breaths. "I can't believe it."

"I'm so sorry", he said again, and he was.

He had known he might hurt her - Narcissa had spelt out the possibility from the beginning - but the reality was much worse. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, he just hadn't much considered that he could.

"I thought that we were both in agreement", he said. "I thought our relationship was over."

Her breath hitched in her throat.

"Well, you thought wrong!"

 _No. You did._

She lay her palms on her knees and bent over a little as though she was preparing for a crash landing.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and took a gulp of his whisky.

 _You might not need a drink, but I certainly do._

"Of course, I'm not okay! Jesus Christ, Severus. I came here thinking I would make you breakfast. I wasn't expecting this."

 _Five dates. We went on five dates. We had sex twice._

 _You shouldn't have let her meet your friends._

 _Idiot._

She stood up and began pointing her finger at him.

"What is the matter with you?!" she yelled. "Do you just go around destroying people's lives?"

She approached him, and he thought for a second that she would hit him. Instead, she threw her hands over her face as she heaved with sobs and then moved her body towards him as though she thought he would take her in his arms.

He almost did, he felt himself move towards her, simply out of sheer embarrassment. She threw her arms around him and lunged as though to kiss him. He tried to push her away, but she threw all of her weight at him, and so he moved aside and dodged her advance.

"Don't end this", she begged. "I can't bear to be without you."

 _Oh, this is awful._

"Cressida. Stop. Please."

Hermione's voice came from the doorway and caught both of their attention.

 _Thank Christ._

:

 **H.**

"Is everything okay?", Hermione asked, and she moved towards Cressida, as she said, "are you okay?"

"Don't you speak to me!" the woman sobbed. "This is all your fault."

Hermione had to take a deep breath as Severus stared at her, then to the woman, with absolute horror.

"You're making a fool of yourself", Severus said, and his tone came sharp and irritable.

" _You_ have made a fool of me!" the woman yelled. "You both, not me!"

Then the rest of the woman's words got lost in her blubbering, her face thick with snot and Hermione felt her stomach turn. Not because it was unsightly, which it was, but because she felt guilty.

 _Am I the other woman?_

"I thought you broke up with her", Hermione said, raising her eyebrows.

Severus raised his hands in the air and his wide, frightful eyes caused a rumble of humour in Hermione's gut again.

"So did I!" he said.

"Are you okay?" she asked the woman again, who did not answer; turning to Severus she said, "…is she okay?"

"I'm fine!", Cressida snapped. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here, you horrible… ugh! You awful—"

And that was enough for Severus. He had had enough. All of the composure he had learned over the last seven years were gone, and he stood before them as imposing and terrifying as ever he was as her teacher.

"Cressida, Please", he said, gritting his teeth and curling his lips around each word, "leave."

"Severus, come on", she said. "Remember how good we have it together."

The woman moved towards him, and when he stepped backwards, she took two forwards and placed her hands on his chest and Severus raised his arms and his face went deathly white. His fingers curled into fists as she stroked the length of his torso, her skin on his skin, her hands on _her_ Severus. _Her_ Severus whose face was dark and livid, offended as he was by this unwanted touch, but he could not lay a finger on her.

:

 **S.**

"Right", Hermione said. "Come on. It's time for you to leave."

Cressida turned her red face to Hermione who marched into the room, brave in just her socks and his shirt, that slipped off her shoulder. Her hair pulled into a messy knot at the back of her head. Her makeup smudged. She wore their night together as armour as she stepped into the living room. Fearless. Beautiful.

"This is your fault!" Cressida wailed. "You're the reason he doesn't want to be with me?!"

Hermione folded her arms and tapped her foot.

"Exactly! He does not want to be with you. So… you'll be leaving, then?"

 _Oh my god, she's brutal._

"Severus, why are you doing this?" Cressida asked with small, tearless sobs; her hands flat against his bare chest. "Why do you want her? She's a girl. You need a woman."

 _You only have five years on her, and you're the one acting like a child._

Hermione stood tall, raised her hand with her wand outstretched and he thought for a minute she would hex the woman. Instead, she whipped her wand at a vase on the counter and sent it hurtling across the room so that it smashed against the picture frames and they all fell to the ground, in a shock of broken glass, the sound deafening and haunting. Cressida shrunk under the noise, placing her head on his chest, on purpose or involuntarily, he did not know or care.

"I will clean that up", she told him, through her gritted teeth, sniping her wand at Cressida, "now... "

Her eyes fell to the woman.

"… Take your hands off him."

 _Yes, Hermione. Mark your territory. Claim me._

Cressida backed away and she looked at him, her eyes big and pleading like a prey caught in the sights of a hunter and Hermione was a lioness after all.

"Severus, please."

Hermione took a deep breath then, and she moved closer to Cressida in a way that told everybody present that she was not fucking around.

"Look, Cressida", she said, pronouncing every syllable like it physically hurt her to mention her name, "we have asked you nicely to leave-"

"'We'?! This isn't your house. You can't tell me what to do", she snipped, pulling her own wand out of her pocket, then.

 _Oh, lovely. Are they going to duel? What are you, a bloody damsel? Winner takes you roughly on your settee?_

 _Fine by me, Lucius. I hope Hermione wins._

"I will not ask you again", Hermione said, her eyebrows narrowed and her lip curled into a snarl. "Get your hands off him."

 _Yes. Tell her. I'm yours._

Hermione grabbed Cressida's bag from the floor and shoved it into her arms.

"Take your shit. And get out."

 _I love you._

:

 **H.**

"And you say I'm mad", Hermione said as she ran her finger through the cream on her hot chocolate and licked it off.

"She seemed so normal".

"I kind of feel bad for her, though", she said.

He draped his arm over her shoulder and she propped her legs over his knees.

"You do?"

"Yeah. It's hard", she said "…losing you."

Severus furrowed his brow and tilted his head, quizzically.

"What do you mean? "

She looked into her cup, not quite sure whether it was wise to meet his eye. Not sure how he would react. Not sure if she should even bring it up.

"Hermione? What do you mean?"

 _Just say it._

"Seven years ago. You walked out of my life and you didn't look back."

He sighed and stroked her shoulders with his hands.

"Well, that's not quite true. I did nothing but look back."

She rested her head on his shoulder and mumbled into her cup.

"And then again, after we slept together... That's twice."

He nodded. She wasn't entirely wrong, he supposed.

"I could bore you with my reasons, but suffice it to say that I was hurt and I… acted accordingly."

"Please bore me with your reasons", she said. "Sometimes I feel like I know you so well, but other times, you are a complete mystery to me."

"Isn't mystery part of the appeal?"

"No", she said, flatly. "I don't want the mystery anymore. I want to know everything about you."

"That could take a long time."

"I have the time", she said.

 _I hope we have all the time in the world._

He dropped his head on top of hers, and his hair fell over her face. She wrinkled her nose and he chuckled as he pulled it to one side.

"Fine", he said, a little begrudgingly. "What would you like to know?"

"I want to know… I wondered if you would tell me… what happened seven years ago… what happened y'know... _that night_ to make you leave?"

He straightened his back and cleared his throat as he said, "alright."

"I was… dependent on you for everything", he said. "You became my entire world for a while, given that I didn't leave the house - it stirred up feelings I hadn't anticipated. Then when I saw you with Weasley... and your little… display…"

He grinned beside her and rubbed the stubble of his chin with an open hand.

"How you teased me."

Hermione sat upright and dropped her mug to the table beside her. She swung around to face him and sat cross-legged.

"Okay", she said. "I'll admit, I knew that's what I was doing. But it was supposed to jolt you into action, not send you running."

He smirked as he ran his hands along the lines of her thigh.

"Running is an action."

She furrowed her eyebrows and pursed her lips in an attempt to hide her smile.

"You know what I mean", she said, and she moved in towards him, to look at his face; to touch it. "Why did you run?"

It was still a novelty that she acted this way around him. Her touch was so familiar and yet so foreign. It had been such a long time since someone had wanted to touch him, just for the sake of it. Just to feel him. No expectation. No ulterior motive. He took her hands from his head and cradled them in his palms.

"Hermione, it might surprise you to learn that I am quite accustomed to women making advances."

"Why would that surprise me?"

He moved so that he could look at her properly.

"You have looked at me, I assume?

"Yes", she said. "I like what I see."

:

 **S.**

"I like what I see."

"Well that would make you part of a very small minority", he said. "But, another thing that sets you apart from every other woman who has shown an interest, is that you are _still_ interested. I am not accustomed to women making advances, and seeing them through. I am not the sort of man that people ask to stay for breakfast. Women do not fall in love with me."

 _And if they do. They do not stay so for long._

"Well, Cressida seems to have fallen in love with you", Hermione said, tracing the lines of his palms as though she didn't want to make eye contact.

"Yes, I didn't see that coming. I'm afraid that puts you both in a very unfortunate, two-person club. Perhaps you could get jackets?"

Her eyes were wide as she looked up to face him, and he studied the twitch in the corner of her lips.

"Did you just assume that I'm in love with you?"

 _I know you're in love with me._

"Shit. I'm sorry" he said, purposefully looking down, hoping that his cheeks would flush red – not that he believed his pallor capable of such a thing.

"I shouldn't have", he said. "I was wrong, obviously. I'm sorry."

She grabbed his hands again.

"No", she said. "You err- I mean, you weren't wrong, exactly… I just—"

Severus felt his mouth split into a grin and her eyes traced his face as her eyebrows furrowed. He saw the moment that she realised what she had said, as her mouth dropped open, but her eyes were bright with her smile.

"Are you manipulating me?"

"I prefer 'cunning' rather than 'manipulative', but yes", he said. "You have spent too much time with Gryffindors, my love. Have you forgotten that I am a Slytherin?"

"You bastard", she said with narrow eyes that he knew she didn't mean.

"Quite right", he said, a little proudly. "But I am a bastard, that I believe you were about to admit to loving."

"That's not fair", she said, but she grinned and bit her lower lip. "I do though."

"You do what?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"… love… you."

He furrowed his eyebrows and smirked.

"Sorry, I don't understand. Would you mind using a full sentence?"

"I love you, you bastard", she said, screwing her face up playfully. "Are you happy now?"

"Yes", he said as his smirk transformed into a genuine smile. "Yes, I'm very happy."

 _I've never been so happy._

 _Or more terrified._

"It should be said though, I would never…" he said. "I have… in the past, used that… ability, let's call it, to force— no… to influence people for personal gain. But I won't ever do that to you. Well, not again. I would never hurt you…"

"Oh, I know", she said, shrugging.

There was no trace of doubt on her face. She knew who he was – who he had been – and she wasn't afraid of him.

 _Bloody Gryffindors._

"Why didn't you use your little 'ability' to get us here sooner?" she asked, and she tucked her hand into his shirt sleeve, running her fingers across the scar on his arm. "We've wasted months going around in circles. I knew years ago, Severus…"

"I wasn't ready", he said, cautiously. "I was…"

He sighed.

"I was _afraid_ … I have built walls around me, ten foot high, to avoid… well… exactly this."

He felt sick. This was unchartered territory. It was the first time in seven years that he had really let his guard down. Admitting his fear was perhaps even more vulnerable than professing his love.

"What were you afraid of? Being hurt?" she asked.

"Among other things. I still am."

:

 **H.**

Hermione knew that she had to play the next thirty seconds very carefully. Severus hadn't been this close to opening up to her for years. She couldn't ask outright, nor could she leave it to him to continue talking without a little prompting.

"I'm sorry", she said.

He laughed.

"Why?"

"I've hurt you…"

 _I know I've hurt you. I'm sorry. I know._

His eyes moved across her face, and she felt scrutinised under his gaze. She dropped her head to the table and stared at her presumably-no-longer-hot chocolate.

"Mmm."

 _No, don't do that. Talk to me._

"The first time we slept together", she said, and she paused to chew her cheek. "I shouldn't have left you…"

"I should have asked you to stay", he shrugged.

"You shouldn't have had to ask."

He shrugged and said, "perhaps", before pulling her onto his lap and kissing her forehead.

She closed her eyes as he ran his hands along the lines of her back. This was the happiest she had ever been. And yet, it felt as though it could all come hurtling down to the ground if he didn't learn to communicate. As he kissed her cheeks, her jaw, her chin before moving to her lips, she realised that she was just as ineffective at communicating as he was. If not worse. She'd had no problem with Ron and Harry because she saw them as her equals.

And when she had found Severus on the floor of the Shrieking Shack they had returned to her home on level footing. But seven years later, Severus had the world at his feet, and Hermione had the world on her shoulders. It made her feel like…

 _Oh._

 _Oh!_

"I've been stupid", she said.

"Hermione, you are one of the—"

"No", she said, cupping his hand in hers. "I have been _such_ an idiot. Do you know what my boggart was in my third year?"

He raised an eyebrow in question.

"Don't tell me it was me. Did you dress me in your grandmother's clothes?" he asked with a smirk.

"No, that was Neville."

"Oh, I heard", he said, rolling his eyes. "Remus didn't think it was particularly funny. He gave me a stern talking to. Rightly so, I suppose. Just don't ever let him know I said that."

They shared a grin and she felt her fear dissolve.

"My boggart", she said, squeezing his hand, "was McGonagall giving me a failing grade."

He pressed his lips together as though to suppress his laughter, which she thought, was actually very kind of him. Ron and Harry had hardly even bothered.

"Okay", he said. "I can understand that. Nobody likes failure."

"Right", she said with a sorrowful smile, "but that's exactly it. When I saw you at the restaurant, you seemed so sure of yourself. You had a great job, you had good friends, you were dating, you were so… confident. It just reminded me that I had a job that I hadn't earned, a boyfriend who didn't love me, and no friends outside Ron's family. When I went home, I just sort of sat in the darkness alone with my feelings, and I couldn't understand how I had allowed my life to become… it felt like my life…"

"Belonged to somebody else?" he offered.

"Yeah", she said, leaning her head into his chest. "I realised that somewhere down the line, I'd totally messed up. And so I clung to my relationship with Ron, even though I knew there was nothing left to save. I'm so sorry, Severus. I didn't… I don't know… I just wanted to have one thing – just one damn thing that I hadn't failed at. I mean, even now, my job at the library… you got that for me… I have nothing that I have earned on my own merit."

Severus shifted his weight beneath her, and she moved so that he could break free. His face was dark, but there was something of a smile on his lips.

"I still can't believe it, I always thought I'd end up—"

"Err- Hermione, I didn't get you the job."

"I know I had to do the interview by myself", she said, "but if you hadn't put in a good word—"

"I didn't", he said regretfully. "I'm sorry. I know I said I would, but from the moment you left the restaurant, I regretted offering to help you get the job. By the time I got home, I'd decided that I couldn't risk working with you. I was afraid that all the confusing feelings I'd had before would come back with a vengeance, and…" he smirked, "well, look at us now."

She grinned at him and he put his arm around her shoulder.

"All I did was give you information that you could have gotten with a thorough google search and tell you to prepare to defend your favourite book, which I'm sure you could have done without prompting. Everything else was you. You got the job because you're brilliant."

"You think I'm brilliant?" she asked.

"Are you kidding? You're the brightest witch of her age", he said, and then the smirk returned to his face. "You're not quite as bright as me, of course."

She narrowed her eyebrows.

"Right. You and me" she said, "wizard's chess, right now. I assume you have a set?"

"Of course, I do", Severus said, "But I should warn you. I never lose."

Hermione smiled.

"Neither do I. Maybe you've finally met your match, Severus Snape."

Severus thought back to his conversation with Lucius over a game of chess. Lucius had known then, what had taken him these past months to learn. He had lived a whole lifetime inside his mind. Always afraid to say what he felt. In his teens, he had kept his mouth shut for fear of ridicule. Later, for fear of The Dark Lord's wrath. He had learned to occlude, had even taught Narcissa to occlude, for fuck's sake. He had spent his life keeping his feelings as closely guarded secrets, and those who knew parts of his soul, were, too, sworn to secrecy.

' _But never - never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us!... I want your word!'_

' _My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?'_

After the Dark Lord had vanished, Severus had continued to keep himself under cloak and dagger.

 _Mostly cloak._

Severus remained a mystery until the day he almost died, and even then, the memories he had given Potter were rose-tinted and carefully selected. He had never been honest. He had become so accustomed to lying that it took the wind out of him to tell the truth. Except with Narcissa, who had known him long before he'd become so damn neurotic. Whatever, or whoever, he had been before Lily had died, was who he needed to channel now. He was Severus Snape. He would not be afraid anymore. He owed it to himself, and to the woman he loved, to finally reveal the best of himself.

 _All_ of the best of himself.

"Okay, Hermione", he said. "Let's play."


	18. Chapter 18

**AN:** Sorry I fell off the face of the earth. If you didn't notice, then pretend I was here all along. Anyway, have a great weekend! x

PS. Played with canon when it comes to Snape's patronus. Sorry if that annoys you.

* * *

18\. Storms Gather

 **S.**

Watching Hermione leave the evening before had been awful, but the light in the darkness had been knowing that this time, she would return. Waking up without her at his side was worse still, but it was one night, one morning. She would be back before he knew it. He was aware of the absolute absurdity of this 180-degree turnaround. They'd gone from miserable sex, to 'I love you', to shacking up in just a few weeks, and yet, it felt like a natural progression – natural, if not normal… typical. They were quite used to sharing their space after all, even if it had been years since. Just as her home had become his; his home, was now hers.

But she had gone out for the evening with Jessica, and they were both going to spend the night at Hermione's and so he was alone for the night. As he sat on his sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table like a damn vagabond, he wondered not if, but _when_ she would return.

 _Okay. Pull yourself together. You can manage one day without her._

He'd tried to be supportive because that was the kind of… It was the kind of… _boyfriend_? he wanted to be.

 _Boyfriend? Seems juvenile._

 _Probably because you haven't been someone's boyfriend since high school._

 _What is the thirty-years-out-of-high-school version of 'boyfriend?'_

 _Gentlemanfriend?_

 _Oh, fuck off._

Severus liked Jessica, and she was good for Hermione, but he was a selfish creature, and he wanted all of Hermione, all of the time.

 _Which is ridiculous and possessive and exactly the sort of shit that drove Lily away._

 _Lily!_

 _It's not the same. You're not seventeen anymore._

And so, he decided that he would go to the people who would talk some sense into him.

 _By which I mean, they'll call me out on my bullshit. Given that they are good friends and, of course, that they take great joy in telling me that I'm acting a twat._

Severus stepped into the living room to floo to the Malfoys' when he caught sight of a pair of green eyes in his periphery – an owl perched on the fence outside his window. It wasn't Darcie, but the bird was similar; shades of brown where Darcie was all grey. He opened the window and allowed the bird to step inside and as he reached to take the letter from its talons, the bird nipped him. He pulled his hand away with a jolt and stared at the pink mark that oozed red between his thumb and his index finger.

 _Little shit_ , he thought, as he tried to take the letter again, but the bird began to bite and tear at his wrist, and he had to physically push the thing back out of the window with one hand and snatch the letter with the other. Snapping the window shut, he stuck his fingers up at the bird and drew the curtains.

He opened the envelope, and as he pulled out the parchment from inside, his fingers burnt hot and he dropped it to the floor. He stared at it, understanding the motive before he could read the words, created from letters cut from newspapers and magazines. It read:

 **YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE**

* * *

"Aren't you frightened, Severus?" Narcissa asked, studying the envelope as though it might hold answers.

 _It doesn't. I've checked._

Severus shook his head and narrowed his eyebrows.

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know? Maybe because it's a threat?" Narcissa said, as though he was a fool for even asking. "Don't you remember Tobin? The guy I was before you and I started dating?"

"The creep?" Severus asked.

"Yes. He sent letters just like this one. It escalated pretty quickly. You should be careful."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Let's just say I know a thing or two about crazy exes."

Severus rolled his eyes.

"We don't know it's from Cressida", he said. "And even if it is, I'm sure I can handle myself."

Narcissa dropped the letter onto the coffee table and stared at it.

"Just be careful, love. Okay?"

"Yes, Treasure", he said.

"I'm serious, Severus. There is nothing more frightening than a pissed off ex-lover."

"I can name a hundred things more frightening than Cressida. Your schemes, for example, are terrifying."

Narcissa threw her silver hair behind her shoulder and crossed her legs.

"They work don't they?" she said, gently tilting her head to gesture at Hermione's pile of belongings – her bag and her trainers and a pair of jeans, screwed up beside the sofa – Hermione's attempt at 'tidying up'.

"Perfectly."

:

 **H.**

Hermione had felt guilty for the way that she had handled Cressida's 'breakdown', as she and Severus since referred to it. But the guilt quickly assuaged when she returned from her night out in town with Jessica to find Severus sitting stiffly on his sofa, staring at a letter. Hermione was no stranger to threats, having received plenty of them during her fourth year, when Rita Skeeter published a lot of nonsense about her very tragic, non-existent relationship with Harry. This however, was something different. This wasn't the ill-informed anger of a stranger. No, this was very well-informed anger, from someone familiar to them. Someone who knew where Severus lived.

 _Someone who has been in his house._ _Someone he had trusted._

Hermione didn't particularly consider herself the jealous type, but she _was_ fiercely protective, and the idea that someone would threaten him because they were jilted was unbearable. Ever since she had ended her relationship with Ron, Hermione had started to feel more like herself. And _herself,_ was quite proficient at hexes and jinxes. And there were plenty to consider.

"Leave it", Severus said, placing his hand on her shoulder, and taking a seat beside her in the kitchen. "Whatever you're planning. You don't have to."

"You can let her get away with it, Severus", she said.

"You think it's Cressida too? So does Narcissa."

"Of course," she said, slamming the letter down onto the counter. "Who else would it be?"

"We can't be certain it's from her."

Hermione scoffed.

"If it _is_ from her", Severus said, sharply, "then it will pass. I hurt her feelings. She's just lashing out."

And it did pass. Three whole days of comfort and familiarity and stolen looks across the reception at work, and shared lunch-breaks and walks through the city before apparating back to Severus' house, which was fast becoming her home. But on the fourth morning, she walked into the kitchen to find Severus in just his boxers, with a mug of coffee in his hands, staring out of the window. Following his gaze, she saw a large brown owl perched on his fence post.

"The same bird", he said, and opened the window for it to enter.

He didn't bother trying to take the letter from its talons this time. The cuts on his hands would likely not scar, but they had needed a few drops of dittany upon her return. She followed Severus upstairs and sat on the bed as he got dressed, then took his hand as they apparated back to her house so that she could do the same. He moved in towards the wardrobe and pulled down a black pinafore dress and a black and white vintage blouse.

"These", he said, with a smirk.

"Severus that's an old Halloween costume."

He handed her the hangers, and ran his hands through her hair, kissing her cheek as he whispered, "well, I want to see you in it."

"Alright", she said, as she pushed him out of the room, onto the landing, "but believe me… it's not a good look for me."

"I'll be the judge of that", he said and grinned as she left the door ajar so that he could watch her.

It had become a play that they revisited every morning. Severus stood just outside her bedroom, watching her remove her clothes from the day before and they would reclaim the memory of her 'little display', as he referred to it, and make it something their own. He stepped back into the room once she was dressed and he drank her in, from her face down to her stockings and back up.

"You're right", he said, "you should take that off immediately".

He swept towards her and his hands came first at her waist as he ran his hands up to her face and kissed her.

"We'll be late", she said, as he tugged at her dress and pulled it over her head.

"Then we're late", he said and pulled her into his arms, before his kiss came, both hot and chilling at her neck. "So be it."

:

 **S.**

"Another one", he said, dropping his head as he handed Hermione the third threatening letter of the week.

"Seriously?" she asked, taking it and opening the folds.

 **what you have done is UNFORGIVABLE**

'Unforgivable' was all in red and capital letters. It was clear to him what the intention was. Subtle as it was. He rolled his eyes. Hermione hadn't missed it either.

"Severus that sounds like a death threat", she said, staring at the words. "'Unforgivable', like the curse… right?"

"It does, doesn't it?" he said, unconcerned. "That is what I thought too."

"You're not scared?"

He scoffed.

"Of Cressida? Not in the slightest. I'm quite an accomplished wizard, you know?"

She smiled with pressed lips.

"So you believe me now? You think it was her?"

Severus didn't know if he did believe it was Cressida, but either way he was not particularly worried. However, Hermione was not so easily calmed. If it helped her to believe that the letters were from Cressida then Cressida it was. One letter Hermione could deal with - how he had loved to see her lion's claws retract – but three letters, was, he could understand, cause for concern. It just didn't make sense. They'd only been on a few dates, of course, but how could he have been so misguided? She truly had seemed quite sane, yet her reaction to their breakup was so out of character… and now this?

 _Absolute madness._

 _But who else could it be?_

It surely wasn't a coincidence that he removed her from her home and received the letters just days later? Severus didn't believe in coincidences. Still, a part of him refused to believe what seemed so obvious. That was until the howler came.

Cressida's voice burst from the letter, unmistakable, in a shrill sob.

"Severus! How could you do this to me!? I saw you in town _with her!_ "

Her voice broke as it got louder.

"I knew what you were – a _Death Eater_ ", the disembodied voice spat, "Everybody told me, 'walk away, he's no good for you!' But did I listen? No! Because I believed you were good, deep down. But I was wrong, you _are_ capable of evil."

Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes as she muttered, "slight overreaction."

"You have broken my heart", the voice continued. "I should have known better than to trust you. Nobody will ever love you like I did. You will regret this, Severus Snape. Mark my words!"

Hermione's eyes widened and then she raised her eyebrows as she looked at him and put her hands on her hips.

"Right, that's it. I'm going to contact someone at the ministry", she said. "We have proof now…"

She trailed off and dropped her arms, as she watched his face fall.

"It's really her?" he asked.

"Yes", she said gently.

"I can't believe it. This is so unlike her—"

Hermione interrupted gently.

"Is it, though?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, with a note of irritation.

"Severus… Come on. What do you really know about her?"

Severus hadn't dared admit it yet, but the answer was 'relatively little'. It wasn't that she hadn't told him things, he imagined that she did. But he hadn't asked her anything - he'd hardly paid her any attention at all, thinking about it. He had been far too caught up with his own…

 _Adolescent drama._

 _You're forty fucking five, there's no excuse._

He shuddered. He had only spent a few weeks with Cressida, but there really _wasn't_ an excuse good enough for not knowing even simple things about her.

 _I can't remember a bloody thing._

"I don't know", he said. "I suppose not much."

"Exactly", she said, as if that proved it.

 _Case closed. Must be Cressida then. No other explanation._

Somewhere inside him, there was a voice or an understanding or _something,_ there was _something_ that was certain Cressida wasn't behind the letters. He supposed this was what other people referred to as a 'gut feeling' or 'instinct'. Neither of these were familiar to him, preferring to have rational thoughts that were carefully considered, before any conclusions were drawn.

 _It's not her. It doesn't make sense._

 _If only we knew someone else with a grudge against me? If only there was another crazy ex somewhere in the mix._

"I'm not convinced."

Hermione crossed her arms even tighter around her body.

"You heard the howler! It was her, Severus" she said in that knowitall way she would at school as she answered a question that was not posed to her.

It was far less irritating now - sweet, actually – knowing that she cared.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't want to believe her capable but we don't know who she is... Who are her friends? Her family?"

 _Okay. It is perhaps a little irritating._

"I didn't meet any of them," he said, defensively. "I'm sorry."

"Did she mention anyone? Work friends, perhaps, or maybe old friends from Beauxbatons."

"She went to Hogwarts", he said. "She was in Slytherin… Wasn't she?"

Hermione screwed up her face.

"You told me she lived in France," she said.

"I did?"

She nodded.

"Did you teach her?"

"No", he said, confidently – that, at least he knew for sure. "I didn't teach her."

"Well, you would have taught her if she was in Slytherin, wouldn't you?"

 _Fuck. What is going on? Why don't I know anything about her?_

"She wasn't at Hogwarts, Severus. I mean… we could check with Draco if you'd like?"

"No," he said - his voice a little more prickly than Hermione deserved.

He didn't need to check with Draco. He remembered. She _had_ told him she was a Slytherin.

 _That fucking brooch._

But she had conveniently forgotten that he was head of house – but she had also told him that she grew up in France.

 _'They asked me to go because I speak French. I studied at Beauxbatons, you know?'_

"She lied to me?"

Hermione shrugged, but her unwillingness to admit what they both knew was dishonest.

"She lied to me", he said – this time it was not a question.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's awful realising that you don't know someone as well as you thought."

She was right. In fact, he didn't know anything. He couldn't even remember her last name.

 _Who the hell was she?_

:

 **H.**

Hermione could understand as well as any how it felt to be let down by someone you thought the best of. Even if Severus was not in love with Cressida - had not been with her very long - he had been close with her; he had shared things with her.

"I'm sorry", she said again later that evening, as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. "I know you wanted it to be someone else."

"No", he said, with a smile she didn't believe. "It's fine."

"Did you… care about her, Severus?"

He smirked then.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, as he moved his hands up to her shoulder and played with her hair between his thumb and forefinger.

"Maybe a little", she said.

 _Maybe a lot. God, maybe I am a jealous person._

She flushed red.

"Just 'a little'?" he mocked, raising his eyebrows and flashing a smile that told her he was pleased with himself…

 _Caught._

"I hated thinking about you with her", she said. "I hate knowing where her hands have been."

"And where do you think her hands have been?" he asked, as she shifted to face him.

"I don't want to think about it", she said. "I don't want to think that they might have been… here…"

She placed her hands on his each side of his face and needled her fingers into his hair, scraping through from just above his ears.

She watched his eyes narrow as she circled her thumbs gently into his temples.

"Or here", she said, running her hands across the cotton of his shirt, and then she pulled open his shirt to move her palms across his collarbones and onto his shoulders, "and here."

He groaned as he sat upright on the sofa as Hermione began to pull at his belt.

"And here", she said, running her fingers between his trousers and his hips.

He stood up and his trousers fell open as she reached into his boxers.

"Here?"

"Her _hands_ were never _there_ ", he said with a grin. "She's not like you."

"Yeah? How so?" she asked, as she moved her hand along his length.

"There is nobody like you", he said, as he closed his eyes and she pulled her hand from between his legs. "No, God, don't stop."

:

 **S.**

As they lounged, dishevelled and pink, Hermione asked again the question she had asked before he'd distracted her.

"Did you care about her?" she said. "I won't be upset, if that worries you…"

He smiled.

"I did a little. I cared more afterwards, I think, when I realised how much I'd upset her. But, she was exactly what I needed to take my mind off… well… you."

She hung her head and he lifted her chin.

"Because I realised I was in love with you", he said. "Not because of anything you did."

"You didn't love her, then?"

He kissed her on the cheek as he said, "no, my love. Not at all. Only you."

"Have you ever been in love before?" she asked.

… _And there it is._

 _You knew she'd ask. They always ask eventually._

"Yes", he said, surprising himself. "Twice. Have you… other than Weasley?"

She shook her head, but she didn't take the opportunity to change the subject. No, she hadn't lied before. Where people often want to talk about themselves, _she_ wanted to talk about him.

"Who?" she asked. "You mentioned before… Harry's mum… was she one of the people you loved?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Okay", he said rearranging himself on the sofa. "If we're going to do this, I am going to have to insist that you call her Lily. The other woman, I loved, by the way, is Narcissa. Please do not refer to them as 'Harry's Mum' and 'Draco's Mum' because I loathe to be reminded that the two other women I have loved in the past are the mothers of your friends."

Hermione smirked.

"Well if it helps, Draco was never my friend…"

He laughed then, and she looked pleased to have softened any awkwardness.

"Fine", she said. "So Lily and Narcissa…"

"Yes. Narcissa and I dated in my last year at Hogwarts and then for a while afterwards. She left me for Lucius when I went to Azkaban..."

Her eyes widened.

"You were in Azkaban?"

"For a couple of months", he said. "The Dark Lord needed someone to take the fall for some ill-performed Confundus charm that messed with someone's head and it was a test of my loyalty if I—"

"Oh no you don't", she said, narrowing her eyes. "That was my fault for encouraging a change of subject, I'll admit, but don't go off on a tangent. I'm on to you, Severus Snape."

He grinned.

"Fine", he said. "Narcissa and I were good together, but she and Lucius are… I don't believe in soulmates, but if ever a couple would make me wonder if people were made for one another, it would be them. They're perfect for each other."

Hermione pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa as she asked, "you don't believe in soulmates?"

"No", he said, helping her to pull it over them. "Does that upset you?"

"No", she said. "I don't believe in soulmates either. Although…"

He raised an eyebrow.

"'Although'...?"

"I wish I did. I wish we were…" she began, her shoulders drooped and she slumped back into the sofa.

"It's silly," she said, "but… if you were mine on a cosmic scale. Maybe it sounds possessive, but if we were soulmates, then… we'd be… destined…"

"What are you afraid of, my love? If we are not written in the stars, then what…?"

"You might fall out of—"

She fiddled with the tassels on the blanket and didn't finish her sentence. So he finished it for her.

"Fall out of love with you? Hermione, so-called 'soulmates' fall out of love every damn day. It doesn't mean anything. I love you now. Isn't that enough?"

She nodded, but he didn't believe her. He tucked his fingers under her chin and lifted it again so he could face her.

"What is it?"

"Lily", she said. "Harry told me about the memories you gave him, you remember?"

"Of course", he said, bitterly.

He still hadn't forgiven Potter for telling anyone who would listen that Severus was actually a massive softie with a twenty-year hard-on for a dead woman.

"I told you, they weren't entirely true…"

"But your Patronus…" she said. "It's a doe… like hers."

"So?" he said, with a gentle laugh and she gazed at him with a sadness in her eyes.

 _She's beautiful. Fuck. I love her._

 _Will I ever get used to how much I love her?_

"My Patronus is a doe, like hers, because we grew up together", he said. "We were best friends. We were similar. We were made of the same shit…"

She screwed up her face in confusion and he had to bite his lip to stop his laughter.

 _She's ridiculous._

"You've lost me", she said.

"Right", he said, patting her on the knee and sitting upright. "So… bear with me. Everyone has a soul…"

"Yes", she agreed and he smiled.

"Excellent. I'm glad you're keeping up…"

She narrowed her eyes.

"Go on."

"Right", he said, "so… let's say that every soul is made of its own material… some souls are made of copper, others of glass; some charcoal, some parchment, some fucking cucumber soup, I don't know… But let's say for argument's sake that I am made of liquorice and you are made of spearmint. Well. Lily and I were both made of liquorice. So we have the same Patronus, because, in a way, we have the same soul…"

"Isn't that exactly what a soulmate is?"

"You think people want to live and love and share a life with someone who is exactly the same as them? No! That would be so boring; such a waste. You would never be able to learn from them or grow with them. I don't even like liquorice…" he said with a grin. "You know what I _do_ like?"

"Tell me?" she asked, with a smile in the corner of her mouth.

"Spearmint. I fucking love spearmint," he said, raising his eyebrows and running his hand along the stubble of his chin. "I will always want spearmint. If I lived my life over and over, I would choose spearmint every time. Okay?"

The smile that followed hit him in the chest, beautiful and magical as it was.

"I love you, Hermione", he said. "Soulmates or not. You're the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You're only twenty-seven, so perhaps this is too soon for you to hear this, I don't know. But I don't want to be with anyone else. I have waited all my life to find somebody that was worth all the fear and pain and madness that, for me, comes with being in love and now that I've found you… I don't ever plan on letting you go."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Right. That sounds menacing. What I meant to say was—"

"Severus", Hermione interrupted.

 _Oh, thank God._

"Yes?"

"I love you too", she said. "And it's not too soon. In fact, I'd say it's about seven years late."

:

 **H.**

 _I should have seen this coming._

The letters that Severus received were increasing in their intensity, and it wasn't long until Hermione received one herself. A manila envelope in the talons of that damn bird, dropped on the doorstep when nobody would allow it to enter; Severus had even spelled the fireplaces shut. Severus took it from her before she could open it, and performed a couple of spells to decipher if there was any dark magic hidden in the letter. There wasn't. Just as there hadn't been in any of Severus', except for a couple of jinxes. Nothing to really worry about. Yet, the fact that Hermione had now received one, seemed to deeply affect him. More so than it did her. More so than any letter before it. It was as though addressing the letter to her had crossed a line. What worried Hermione however, was that the letter, although addressed to her, was yet another assault on Severus.

 **HE WILL RUIN YOU AS HE RUINED ME**  
 **AS HE RUINS EVERYONE**

:

 **S.**

Sending a letter to Hermione was one step too far. Dragging her into their dramatic play was an escalation he had not anticipated. He had expected jinxes, maybe even hexes – curses at a push – it wasn't the first time he'd pissed a woman off. But something about engaging Hermione did not sit right with him. It felt ominous. The letter he received two days later only made the feeling intensify.

 **I WILL TAKE EVERYTHING FROM YOU**

"Severus, what does that sound like to you?"

"Another empty threat, I assume", he said. "If she was going to do something, she would have tried it by now."

"Let's hope so", she said and he took her hand, squeezing it by reply.

 _I've let this go on long enough,_ he thought. _I need to confront her. Once and for all._

"It'll be fine," Severus said.

 _Famous last words._

 _Confront her._

"Are we still on for tonight?" Hermione asked, sliding two theatre tickets across the table.

 _Tomorrow. It's time to end this._

"I can always ask Jessica if you don't want to go."

He swallowed his uncertainty and shook off his trepidation.

"No, I'll take you," he said with a smirk. "If you'll wear the red dress I like."

:

 **H.**

As Severus slipped his hand into hers, she squeezed tightly, as though she could communicate through her fingers that she was happy. She walked beside him through the streets of the West End; lights twinkled above their heads and illuminated the path beneath their feet. Their evening dinner, theatre and cocktails had been everything she had hoped for. Severus was a proud wizard no doubt - proud of the magical part of his half-blood - but unlike most wizards she knew, he was not afraid of, and rather enjoyed, muggle pursuits. She didn't know much about his childhood, except that he was raised on a muggle estate, his father was a muggle and his mother a witch, and neither had been all that kind to him. As they turned onto another street and she opened her mouth to ask him where exactly he had grown up, he stopped.

She continued to walk for a second - just long enough that his fingers locked with hers - acted to stop her in her tracks and pull her in towards him. Her feet slipped on the slick cobbles from the evening's rain and he steadied her, taking the excuse to kiss her, perhaps this had been his intent all along, and she melted into his embrace as his arms wrapped around her.

"You're so beautiful", he whispered into her ear, "do you know that?"

She felt her cheeks fill with colour, but as she looked at him, she thought she saw a flicker of unease.

"But what I love most about you is that you're brave", he said.

He emphasised the word 'brave' as though it was supposed to mean something to her.

"I've hardly been brave—" she started.

He hushed her gently and she could feel the pounding of his heart and hers followed its rhythm without truly understanding the urgency. The flicker of unease shifted to throbbing dread and yet he pressed fingers into her side, and his other hand swept into his pocket, as he kissed her. It was just like any other kiss and yet…

 _Something is wrong._

He pulled away, and she met his eyes; they were focused and terrifying.

"Smile at me", he said. "Don't react to what I'm about to say."

"Severus?" she asked, and he smiled, urging her to do the same, but she could feel his heart pelting at her chest as he pulled her in to him. He kissed her hair and his voice came again as a whisper. Her smile ached her cheeks, as she forced to keep it there.

"I don't want you to worry…"

 _Too late_.

"… But we are being followed, Hermione," he said.

 _Oh God._

"Do you see them? Tall, cloaked…"

 _Oh God. Oh my God._

"Yes, I see them."

"Good… where are they?" he asked.

"They're standing right behind you."


	19. Chapter 19

**AN:** It's a little longer than usual because it's two shorter chapters put together. Hope that's okay! x

* * *

19\. Strike!

 **H.**

 _I should have seen this coming._

"Okay, let's walk."

He kissed her cheek and took her hand, leading her down the street. Hermione's heart began to hammer as she took one last look at the tall, cloaked figure that was illuminated only in outlines by the neon light of a 'closed' sign in a shop front. It was the face of the figure that most frightened her, or rather, the lack thereof.

"They've been following us from the theatre", Severus said. "Could you see who it is?"

"I think they're wearing a mask…" she said, in a hurried whisper that came fractured and terrified.

 _That can't be Cressida. Surely? Is someone helping her?_

"I don't want you to do it just yet…" he said again quite calmly, as he ran his fingers through her hair, his body still very much firmly between Hermione and the figure that stood behind them. "But can you access your wand quickly?"

"Yes", she said. "Severus, they're following us again."

"I know," he said. "Keep acting like you haven't a care in the world."

 _How? How the hell do I do that?_

"I need to figure out who we're dealing with."

"Legilimency", she said, desperately. "Can't you read their mind?"

"Yes, but I don't know if I can do so undetected. I don't know how skilled they are. An accomplished wizard will know I'm doing it. Right now we have the element of surprise. I won't put you in danger by giving ourselves away."

"But you have a plan?" she asked.

"I do", he said. "We're going to split up, okay?"

Her hands tightened and her knuckles went white as she grabbed the sleeve of his coat.

"I have watched enough scary movies to know that's the worst thing we can do – fuck! Severus…" she whispered, "they're closing in."

"It's going to be fine. Listen to me, Hermione", he said decidedly. "I want you to apparate back home and—"

"No way!" she snapped. "I'm staying with you."

"I can't think straight if I'm worried about you," he said. "Go home."

She narrowed her eyebrows.

"Please", he said. "I don't have time to argue with you!"

"Then don't," she said.

"Fuck! Fine. Odds are that whoever this is, wants me, and not you…"

"Because of the letters," she said.

 _But the letters are from Cressida… this isn't… it can't be…_

"I'm going to lead them away from you. I want you to head in the opposite direction but hang back once you're out of sight."

"But—"

"Please don't argue with me."

Severus' voice came quiet and quick – _so_ quick and _so_ quiet, in fact, that she would be forgiven for thinking that he was frightened. She wasn't entirely sure she heard every word but she understood the gist and so when he pushed her away and forced a hearty laugh, she made herself laugh too.

"I'll see you back at mine, babe", Severus said - his manner, his words and his tone all belonged to someone else.

 _Babe,_ she thought. _How ridiculous._

She wanted to laugh, except nothing about the situation was funny. Anyone who knew him would know that something wasn't right, and yet he continued.

"Don't keep me waiting", he said, in what she assumed was supposed to be a playful voice.

It didn't suit him.

She nodded and Severus let go of her hand as he stepped off the curb and turned down into an alleyway. She turned her back and continued down the street. She kept her neck bent so that it looked as though her eyes were on the ground but they weren't; they were on him – on Severus – she would always have his back. She waited to see the figure to come into view as it followed behind him, but it didn't. Whoever it was had hung back. They weren't following Severus.

 _We're okay,_ Hermione thought. _False alarm. They aren't following us._

Then came a voice inside her mind, unidentifiable but clear as day.

 _Maybe they aren't following him,_ it said, _but that doesn't mean they're not following—_

And it was then that she heard footsteps behind her.

 _Run_ , the voice said.

And she did.

:

 **S.**

 _Fuck. Fuck! Where are they? They should be here by now. What are they waiting for?_

Severus stood with his back flat to the industrial bins that lined the end of the alleyway. His fingers were wrapped tightly around his wand, which he held aloft, pointed as though it was cocked and loaded, and yet, nobody came.

 _If they're not here then…_

 _Hermione._

He ran through the alley, back to the cobbles and his shoes, his fucking brand new, slippery shoes that Hermione insisted he wore so that he blended in with the muggles. When had he ever cared about blending in? When had he ever agreed to step out into muggle London? He kept doing things for her that were completely out of character.

 _And look where it has gotten you._

 _Where is she?_

Hermione was nowhere to be seen, and he continued to argue with her in his head – she was so fucking stubborn. She should have gone home. If she had just listened to him! But no, she had to prove herself.

 _Fuck, Hermione. Where are you?_

 _Fuck it. I can't risk getting into his mind, but I can get into yours._

"Legilimens," he said, tapping his wand in his pocket.

 _I'm sorry,_ he thought, as he navigated through her mind so that he could see, almost literally through her eyes.

What he saw hit him in the gut with a punch so hard, he physically staggered. Hermione was looking at the cloaked figure – dressed so familiarly his stomach churned – the mask, the robes…

 _A Death Eater?_

 _All the Death Eaters are dead, Severus, or in Azkaban. As for the Dark Lord… there is nobody lto eft follow._

No, this wasn't a Death Eater, he was sure of it. It was someone who wore those robes – wore that mask – to fool and to frighten. It was working. He was scared – his sweaty palms and his stabbing heart – he couldn't deny it. Hermione was frightened too. He thought he saw her life flash before her eyes. Then everything was him – nothing but thoughts of she and Severus and he knew that she felt that he was there.

 _I'm coming for you,_ he tried to tell her and he fancied that she understood because all at once there were flashing images in front of his eyes. A green door, a hanging sign above them, a frosted window. A pub. Then the images were street signs and road markings and identifiable landmarks.

 _I know where you are. I'm not far._

He broke the connection and tried to focus, but he was besieged by images - fears and threats and memories – memories, for the most part of Lily, wide-eyed and completely motionless.

 _Not again!_

 _If anything happens to Hermione..._

 _FOCUS, SEVERUS. FUCK!_

He curled his fingers again around the length of his wand, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and with a crack of his wand, he disapparated.

:

 **H.**

Hermione held both of her hands in front of her. One was clutched around her wand and pointed at the person behind the mask, and the other hand was upright and flat, in warning.

 _Stop._

"I do wish Snape was here, but we can't always get what we want, can we?" the cloaked figure said, in a voice that was not natural.

It was affected in some way, almost robotic – yet the figure held a wand in their hand and so Hermione knew that this was not some random encounter with a muggle. This was a witch or a wizard, and they meant to do her harm. Why else would they cover their face and disguise their voice? Why hadn't she taken the letters more seriously?

 _Why didn't Severus take them more seriously?_

Severus had been sure that Cressida didn't pose a threat, but he had also been reluctant to believe it was her in the first place. They had to be connected. It was too much of a coincidence not to be. This was personal. This was an escalation. It was someone making good on a threat.

"I warned him," the voice spat. "And I warned you too."

 _He,_ she decided, _it must be a man._

"What do you want from me?" she asked him, as she started to formulate a plan.

 _Distract him._

As far as Hermione could see it, she had three options. She could fight. She could continue to distract him and run. Or she could continue to distract him and wait for Severus. As her eyes drew around and down the empty street, she knew she had little chance of running from him without using her magic and she could just as quickly hex him.

 _Fine,_ she thought, _I may as well fight,_ just as Severus stepped into view – dark and livid and dangerous.

:

 **S.**

 _Fuck you,_ he thought as he pointed his wand at the cloaked figure and Hermione's eyes flashed towards him. He nodded to her as he moved further into view. The figure turned on its heel to face him – not that he could see their face. Severus wasn't ashamed to admit that not being able to see the person's face was a little unnerving. Simply because he didn't know what or who he was up against. At least he knew who it couldn't be… The Dark Lord. Nor could it be Dumbledore. So unless Flitwick sat upon Minerva's shoulders under that cloak, he was bound to be a more accomplished dueller than whoever it was.

That said, even though Severus could typically run rings around him, Lucius had managed to knock him back once or twice while they trained together all those years ago. It all depended on how focused Snape was, and how fucking focused could he be when he could still smell Hermione's perfume in his hair and taste the cranberry juice from her vodka on his tongue?

This was it. This is everything that is wrong with being in love.

 _I need to focus._

"What do you want?!" Hermione repeated, and as Severus' attention momentarily flitted behind him, the masked witch or wizard used the distraction as the perfect time to strike, and threw a knockback jinx at him, but Severus could only laugh as he deflected it. Whoever this was, was not someone who duelled often; they neither seemed to know what they were doing, nor to really want to do it.

Whoever it was that wore those robes did not deserve to.

 _If you dare to wear that costume, you had better be willing to die for it._

"Just back off", Severus said, holding his wand in front of him. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You should have just kept your hands to yourself", the inhuman voice said, and although it sounded as though it meant to come as a threat, the voice shook. "You can't go around hurting people without consequence."

"Okay", he said. "I'm sorry, let's talk."

He almost said, 'let's talk, Cressida' – the affected voice, the personal message, the fact that she was hardly willing to hurt him – it had to be her.

 _She would never hurt me,_ he thought, just as a shot of green light came out of the wand opposite him. He jumped aside by instinct, but the killing curse did not form fully unless the person was truly intent on murder, and so the green light popped and fizzled like a cheap muggle firework. But in cases where there was no intent at all, there would be no light. Green light, no matter how pathetic, was green light. This person meant to kill him. How many times would it take before they really _meant it?_

 _Oh fuck this!_

"Accio mask!"

Severus stared at the face before him. A man with dry, chin-l ength greying hair, around his age.

"Who the fuck are you?" Severus bellowed, as he held his wand stiff in his hands, and stepped towards the wizard.

The wizard shot again, that pathetic green light buzzed once, twice and Severus growled his frustration but could not hide his ego.

"You have to fucking mean it!"

Hermione moved from behind Severus, to his side and although usually, someone joining him in an assault would make him feel more powerful – an excuse to show off his skill- it only made him feel more vulnerable and he couldn't quite understand why. As the wizard stood to his feet and Severus prepared himself to duel again, there was something in the way that the man held himself that told Severus that something had shifted.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione snipped confidently, but the wizard deflected it.

"Hermione," Severus warned, "back off! I don't need you to fight my battles for me…"

She nodded and his eyes followed her as she moved behind him. He was distracted, just for a second. But it was long enough. That was when he saw her face contort and her body fell to the slick pavement as she screamed. He'd heard that scream before. He'd inflicted that scream before. He'd made that scream before.

 _Not again. You swore that you'd keep her safe._

 _Never turn your back, Severus. You know better._

 _How many times must you learn this lesson!?_

Severus' fingers tightened around his wand and as the wizard cried "Crucio!" Severus blasted curse after curse, after hex, after curse. He did not take pleasure in it, as he once may have. But neither did he feel guilty.

The thing that stilled his heart her silence. She was no longer in pain. He didn't dare think what that might mean. He could not focus on what might be; only what was.

 _What if she's—_

 _Fuck! Focus, Severus!_

 _She'll be fine._

It took all his strength not to use an Unforgivable Curse on the man but he wasn't going back to Azkaban. He wouldn't be separated from Hermione, not after all of the dog shit they'd waded through to get to each other.

 _She's okay,_ he told himself. _She'll be okay. She's been through worse._

 _Focus._

Severus continued his assault until the wizard lay on the ground in front of him and he bore down on the cloaked figure. He lifted his wand, and narrowed his eyes.

 _Disarm him._

 _Kill him!_

 _No. Disarm only._

 _Right._

Severus lifted his wand but no sooner had he opened his mouth, he heard a sound from behind him that tore through him as a tidal wave of panic. A voice, her voice, so small, so broken, so frightened.

"Severus, I…," she said.

' _Severus, I…' what, Hermione?_

 _She's alive. She's fine. Focus on him._

A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind as he stared at the person in front of him. He jabbed his wand, but his thoughts clouded until all he could process were 'what if's and the fog descended until it was all he could see.

' _Severus, I'm fine'? 'Severus, I'm hurt'?_

 _Stop it. Focus._

' _Severus, I love you'? 'Severus, I don't love you. I've never loved you. You have let me down. You swore you'd keep me safe'?_

 _Please. Focus._

' _Severus, I'm frightened'? 'Severus, I don't think I'm going to make it…'?_

His stomach sank.

 _Not again. Not like Lily._

 _Focus! Protect her._

 _Lily._

Severus turned to face Hermione, who clung to her chest but she was at least standing. She was winded and shaken, but otherwise, she appeared unharmed. He felt his fingers relax around his wand as Hermione said,

"Severus I think we need to contact the authorities… they can sort this out."

Snape nodded.

Then just as quickly, Hermione's eyes flew open and the world moved as though in slow motion as his heart sank and his body slammed to the ground. His chin grazed the tarmac as he skidded and he heard the whooshing of spells passing over his head. He pulled himself from the ground and growled and groaned with the pain of moving as he stood to full height and turned to face the man, but he was no longer in sight.

 _Fuck._

 _FUCK!_

"He's gone," she said, "it's okay."

"It is not okay!" he snapped. "I shouldn't have turned my back. I never fucking turn my back! This is your fault! You did this! You should have apparated home like I asked."

"Severus?"

"No, Hermione. God, you're so stubborn! This is exactly what I was afraid of! I am a brilliant wizard- do you realise that? I am a master duelist!"

He could hear himself – he was fucking losing it and he couldn't keep control of his anger no matter how hard he tried. He was a wild animal howling at her for no fault of her own and yet he kept going.

"If I had been in my right mind I would have disarmed him in a matter of minutes. But I can't fucking think when I'm distracted. Do you know how I have survived for as long as I have?"

"Enlighten me," she said irritably.

"I have looked out for myself and myself only."

"That's not true", Hermione snapped. "You looked after Harry!"

"I didn't care about Potter! Quite the opposite. I didn't even bother trying to get close to him, lest I see too much of Lily and feel my fucking heart break all over. And so, I acted as though he was just like his father – all arrogance and attitude."

Hermione raised an eyebrow as she crossed her arms.

"Fine. But what's done is done. We're both okay, aren't we?"

 _God, she's insufferable._

 _And she's safe._

"You are not listening to me! _This_ is what I was afraid of," he said, "… that I'd be vulnerable, just as I was when I was a teenager. I didn't protect myself… just as I couldn't protect her."

"Severus, what are you talking about?"

"I just want to be alone, Hermione!"

"You can talk to me…" she said as she grazed his hand with hers, meaning to take it "…about anything."

He snatched his away.

"I'm done asking you nicely. Just piss off, would you? I don't want to—"

"No!" she snapped. "We're not doing this again. You don't have to tell me whatever the hell is going on, but you will not push me away this time."

"Hermione", he growled in warning.

"Severus!" she sniped back.

 _She's infuriating. Why is she so damn stubborn?_

"I'm not going anywhere. There is nothing you can say that will make me walk away from you."

 _Oh, I'm sure I could think of something. Something that has proven to work very well in the past. She never looked at me the same way again, in fact._

Her eyes moved across his face and he was sure that he was scowling. He tried to straighten his face, making a harsh line with his lips, no curve in either direction.

"Yes," she said. "Even that."

"What?"

"Mudblood," she said. "That's what you were thinking, isn't it?"

 _Lily._

 _Don't do this again._

"Hermione, I—"

She smiled at him as though not a bad word had been spoken between them, as she held out her hand again, to take his.

"I'm starting to understand you," she said. "You lash out when you feel threatened, or cornered, or frightened…"

… _Or humiliated._

"Right," she said, "come on. I will force you if I have to."

"Where are we going?" he asked, forgetting for a moment his anger.

"Malfoy Manor."

* * *

 **H.**

Narcissa on the arm of the armchair in which Severus sat. She placed her hand on his shoulder and Hermione felt a pang of something akin to jealousy.

"I'm so glad you're both okay," Narcissa said. "That awful woman—"

"It wasn't Cressida!" Severus groaned irritably. "It was so obviously not Cressida."

"She could have used a Polyjuice potion," Hermione said.

Severus rolled his eyes and folded his arms.

"Yes, thank you for the potions education, Professor Granger," he said sourly.

"Fine! Who do you think it was?"

He shrugged as he slumped into the armchair of the Malfoy's drawing room.

"I don't know. Like I've told you, I didn't recognise him. But given that we're suggesting Polyjuice, perhaps we should consider someone else who might have reason to try to kill us."

He spoke pointedly. She understood what he meant.

"You think it was Ron?!"

"I think we should at least consider him."

"Rubbish", Hermione said as she paced the room, traipsing mud across the rug.

"Hermione, love. Why don't you sit down?"

Hermione grimaced and nodded, but still, she didn't sit.

"Why won't you even consider that it could be Weasley?" Severus asked.

"Because Ron can be a piece of shit, sure. But he's not crazy!"

"Ha! I beg to differ," Snape said. "You didn't see him at the restaurant after you broke up…"

"What? When did you—"

"That's enough!" Lucius sniped, standing to his feet. "We can stand here and play who has the craziest ex, or we can…"

"Yes! Let's play that", Draco interrupted, excitedly. "Luna Lovegood! I win."

"You dated Luna?!" Jessica and Hermione both asked in unison – even their tone of surprise echoed perfectly.

"Luna was odd, not crazy", Narcissa said, "I have you all beat on crazy."

She stared at Severus and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"Who?" he asked. "Me?"

"No, not you, love. Tobin… before you. I told you, didn't I, Severus? I saw this coming. Sometimes you hurt someone and they lash out."

"You've seen this happen before?" Hermione asked.

Narcissa nodded.

"Before I met Severus, I was with a guy who was… he wasn't very—"

"He was a piece of work," Severus said. "He couldn't accept that she didn't want to be with him anymore."

"He's the reason I became a Death Eater," Narcissa told her, with a grim smile – Hermione assumed she was the only person present who didn't know this story. "He thought I was being unfaithful. I wasn't, but it didn't matter. He became violent. That's what I told Severus. I've seen this kind of behaviour before… He sent threatening letters too when I ended things with—"

"Letters?" Lucius asked. "Nobody said anything about any letters?"

:

 **S.**

"Threatening messages made of newspaper cuttings," Severus said with a shrug. "Nothing sophisticated."

As Lucius turned to face him, Severus saw that there wasn't a trace of humour on his face. Not even a note of his typical arrogance or cockiness. He was entirely serious. Severe, even.

"You knew about this?" Lucius asked Narcissa – his voice, razor sharp. "You should have said something."

"I'm sorry, Darling," Narcissa said as she moved from Severus' side to her husband's. "I didn't know whether it was a secret or—"

"You two and your fucking secrets", Lucius snipped, as he stalked across the room and snatched open the top drawer of the bureau.

He pulled out an envelope, and from the envelope, he drew a piece of parchment, that he turned over to reveal a note – a threat – formed from magazine clippings.

"Did it, by any chance look like this letter?", Lucius asked, slapping the parchment down onto the table so hard that it landed with an audible crack.

 **YOU KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE DONE  
YOU WILL PAY**

"Yes", Hermione said, taking it and studying it. "Exactly like this."

"Almost word for word," Severus said.

He scowled and his stomach knotted.

"Delivered by a large grey owl?"

Lucius nodded and looked at Hermione.

"Why would Cressida take issue with Mr— with Lucius?" she asked.

"Like you said," Severus said, feeling himself droop into the chair as he spoke, "we don't know anything about Cressida so who knows…"

"I don't know her", Lucius said, emphatically. "The first time I met her was when you brought her around for dinner."

Severus' eyes shot towards Hermione who raised her eyebrow but did not say anything.

"You met Weasley though…" Severus said smugly.

"I figured the note was from someone who was angry I was out of Azkaban… I got plenty like it when I was first released. I was in the Prophet a couple of weeks ago and I received the letter the next day…"

"Ron reads The Prophet religiously," Hermione said as she swallowed the lump in her throat. "And he hates you, Lucius. He hates us all."

:

 **H.**

At dinner, Hermione made conversation with Jessica and even Draco, which to her surprise came easily, as Severus sat in silence beside her. She was determined not to have Snape piss all over everyone's evening, even if he was determined to dampen hers.

Although she knew that objectively it was rather odd to be eating dinner with the Malfoys, she couldn't say that she felt even slightly out of place. Narcissa was the perfect hostess, which seemed to be well-accepted as the norm and not something she was doing for Hermione's benefit. Lucius, she was refreshed to find, was quite able to make her laugh _and_ keep up with her when she turned to more intellectual topics of conversation.

It was nice to be a part of a family, she thought. It had been so long since she had been. She hadn't thought about the Weasleys in such a long time, and now that she did, she found that she didn't miss them as much as she had anticipated. Her life was different now, but it was happier than it ever was – even as she looked at the miserable wart that sat beside her, she couldn't help but smile. He looked up from his souffle, and met her eyes, as she placed her hand on his thigh. She felt his hand meet hers, and she huffed as he brushed her hand away, before returning to the conversation with Jessica.

 _He'll come around. He always does._

"Hermione…", he said eventually, "I know I'm being an arse—"

This acknowledgement didn't accompany an apology. He excused himself from the table, and Lucius stood too, throwing his napkin onto his chair and shared a look of understanding with his wife.

"Sort him out, love," she said.

:

 **S.**

"Are you quite done?" Lucius asked, shoving a glass of brandy into Severus' hand.

Severus sipped from the glass and glared at Lucius.

 _Oh here we fucking go._

"That girl is too good for you."

"Of course she is, look at her!"

"No," Lucius snipped, "not that. She's patient with you. You've treated her like shit ever since you got back, and she has still sat at your side. Narcissa would have walked out on me for less."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said, but he knew as he said it that actually, Lucius knew exactly what he was talking about.

He'd swept Narcissa off her feet and they'd spent the last thirty years madly in love with each other, and Severus had spent that time miserable and alone.

 _With good reason._

 _There is no reason good enough._

 _What would I do without her?_

"I don't know how to be what she needs."

"I don't want to lose her," Severus said, "but I'm completely distracted when I'm with her. I'm always more concerned about her than I am about myself. Her safety, her well-being, her happiness becomes the most important thing in the world, I can't live like that…"

"Why not!?"

"Because it puts me in danger… like tonight."

Lucius knocked back his glass of brandy and opened the bottle to pour another.

"You're infuriating. You didn't come to any harm, did you? She was there for you, wasn't she? She had your back?"

"And what if she wasn't there?"

"She bloody won't be if you keep treating her like she's a detriment to you. She is not. She is the best thing that has happened to you in thirty years."

"I know," Severus conceded, begrudgingly.

 _Damn these bloody Malfoys._

"You know, when I got Lily killed—" Severus started.

"Oh, bullshit! You did nothing of the sort," Lucius snapped.

Severus was taken aback by the severity of his tone. He'd never heard Lucius speak this way.

"What?"

"You begged for her life," Lucius said. "So what? I… I told The Dark Lord the prophecy could refer the Potters… I had gotten wind that she was pregnant… That was me…"

Severus sank back and dropped the glass from his lips. Lucius seemed to cower in his chair.

"I'm so sorry, Severus."

"I had always assumed that pleasure was Bella's. Well... never mind. He would have found out eventually."

Lucius' face flashed red.

"Are you serious?!" he asked, slamming his glass onto the table. "You think that you're responsible for her death when in fact, you tried to save her life and yet, you don't blame me?"

"Of course not."

"Why not? Why aren't you angry with me? Be angry, Severus. I would be. I have kept this secret from you all these years. I did not know you loved Lily, of course, but I did have a hand in taking your love from you. I took Narcissa too, you recall?"

"Mmm."

"That's twice," Lucius said as his eyebrows drew together and his mouth became a straight line. "All I can ask is your forgiveness, and I… I need it, Severus."

Severus placed his glass on the table next to Lucius' and closed his hands together in his lap.

"Listen to me. You didn't take love from me. Neither Lily nor Narcissa really loved me in the way that I wanted them to. I saw the way you and Narcissa looked at each other. I knew when they carted me off the Azkaban that she would turn to you. Just as I knew that when Lily and I broke up that she would run off to Potter. I have always let the women I love walk away from me and I have hoped to the Gods that they would return to me, but they never have. Not until Hermione. She loved me and I loved her – God, I love her - and I let her go back to Weasley time after time. But I was so afraid that she wouldn't come back to me, that I deserted her before she even had the chance to reject me, but she did, Luce. She came back for me, every time."

 _I've been such an idiot._

"I'm sorry, I have to go find Hermione," Severus said as he hastily stood up. "Lucius, I am not angry with you. I was put out at first, of course, but when I see you and Narcissa together, I could never imagine it any other way. You're my friend. I know your heart. And I forgive you."

Lucius' face changed then. His mouth curved into an uncertain but genuine smile.

"You _do_ love me then, old boy," Lucius asked. "We _are_ friends?"

"What are you talking about? We've been friends for years."

"That's the first time you've ever said it," Lucius said. "All these years and I wondered if you resented me, or if you were simply friends with me out of convenience because you are so close with Narcissa. You have your secrets – you always kept me on the outside – I felt… I didn't know if— Oh, I don't know what I'm trying to say."

Severus threw back his whiskey and sighed.

"You know when The Dark Lord tried to kill me, and Hermione took care of me, I thought about you. In fact, I heard your voice for weeks afterwards; you kept me going when I was losing the will to live."

"What did I say?"

"You were a sarcastic little pervert most of the time, truth be told," Snape said.

Lucius puffed up his chest, playfully as he said, "naturally."

"It was you that made me see Hermione in a different way. Combine that your pep talks and Narcissa's meddling and I have you both to thank for everything that I have now. I'm so glad you took Narcissa, Lucius. And now, I really do have to go speak with Hermione. Just as I have held you at arm's length, I have done the same with her and I need to talk with her… I need to explain why I've been so cruel and such a coward. I need to tell her—"

Severus sighed.

"I need to tell her everything."


	20. Chapter 20

**AN:** Hi, so. Three things.

1\. I had to tweak canon here just a teeny tiny bit for the story to make sense.

2\. I'm sorry this chapter is so long. I figured it was better to get out what I have, rather than spend the next two weeks criticising every word to the point of insanity in the name of 'editing'.

3\. I'm also sorry I disappeared again. I have no excuse except that I've been trying to focus on writing original fiction which I have also NOT DONE because I've been a little bit bummed out of late, which is British-Stiff-Upper-Lip for MAN ALIVE, HAVE I BEEN DEPRESSED. I'm trying. Bear with me.

Anyway, how have you been?

* * *

20\. Snivellus

 **S.**

 **Now.**

"I'm irrational," Severus said, curling his fingers between Hermione's, whose hand had fallen into his lap – her comfort came as it always did, in perfect timing. "I'm sorry. I'm ridiculous. I'm neurotic! I'm a damn fool…"

"Severus… What is it?"

"I've been hurt so many times," he said. "I panicked… Nobody has ever loved me as you do. I've been so afraid that I'll lose it… or lose you."

"You won't, I—"

"Hermione, please let me tell you this? You need to hear it."

"Okay," she said, and she squeezed his hand. "You were saying that you're afraid you'll…"

"I'll lose you," he said, "yes. But worse still… I've been afraid that I will lose myself. When I turned my back on the man who followed us…"

He couldn't quite bring himself to say, 'almost killed us.'

"… It reminded me of something that happened years ago", he continued. "Something awful. It might be my worst memory, in fact. It's the day my entire world fell apart."

* * *

 **Then.**

 **January 1976.**

The Winter Break at Hogwarts was Severus' favourite time of the year, without exception. First and foremost, he loved the weather, as he could wrap himself in cloth from head to toe; layers upon layers of black fabric, under which he could hide. He loved snow because its white blanket took the colour from the world and made it uniform and beautiful. He did not have to see his wretched father on Christmas Day; he didn't have to listen to him argue with his mother or watch the Great bloody Escape and listen to how he, Severus, didn't have a clue about hardship or suffering, not like his father did. He didn't have to count the empty bottles, and take himself up to his bedroom and lock the door behind him when he counted three, four, five...

He didn't have to share the dorms with the other Slytherin boys, and he had the common room to himself for the most part. A few seventh years had remained behind to study for their NEWTs; their noses pressed to their books. It was like the bloody Ravenclaw common room.

 _Never underestimate ambition._

The best thing about the winter break, however, was that there were no bloody Marauders. Nobody had jinxed him in the corridors all holiday. Nobody had mocked his nose or his hair, his fucking greasy hair that didn't look clean even when he'd just stepped out of the shower. Nobody had called him 'Snivellus'. He had only heard his name as it was supposed to be said. Of course, no students meant no Lily too, but he could just about cope without her if it meant he didn't have to look at Potter's face. Or Black's.

 _Black is as bad,_ he thought. _Worse, perhaps. He's always fucking goading Potter, who, of course, must prove he's the alpha dog, which is funny, given that Black is the one who cocks his legs to piss up trees. Potter's just a prancing, bloody deer. Could be worse. Could be a rat._

 _Or a Werewolf._

No, Potter was the worst, he decided.

Pettigrew was a coward, through and through. How he ended up in Gryffindor was anybody's guess. It was hardly for his loyalty.

 _If only those little Marauders knew what I know._

Lupin was dangerous, but he at least did not choose to be so.

He was spineless too.

 _He just sits with his nose in a book and ignores what his friends do to people in the name of their entertainment._

Black was handsome, but Severus didn't care for handsome. He'd never be superior there. Neither was he funny nor charismatic like Black. But Severus was a brilliant wizard and Black was average.

 _He's a lackey… a henchman… a bit of muscle for Potter to hide behind._

And so it was that Potter was the issue; he was the threat. Because he was athletic, and admittedly not quite as fuck-ugly as Severus, but worse… he had what Severus had too. A clever mind, quick wit and a sharp tongue. Fortunately for Severus, Potter had yet to best him.

 _Potter might be clever and quick and sharp, but I'm cleverer and quicker and sharper._

Even if Potter took a hit to the head in Quidditch and awoke the cleverest, the quickest and the sharpest, Severus would not be afraid.

 _Because I have what Potter wants._

Lily was brilliant too, and for whatever reason, she had chosen _him –_ Severus. Potter made himself perfectly clear, asking her out at least once a month for the last year, and yet she had chosen him, and she continued to choose him every day. Sometimes Severus would watch her and he couldn't believe his luck. She was beautiful. Not necessarily _pretty_ like other girls. Marisol in the year above was nice to look at. And there was Kittie Parrish – one of the Hufflepuff beaters – God, he'd considered signing up for the Slytherin team just for the privilege of having her kick his arse.

No, Lily was beautiful from the inside out. She was easy on the eyes of course, but it was her humour and her warmth that made her lovely. She was too bloody good for him, that was for sure. And yet, she looked at him as though he put the stars in the sky. Sometimes, though, he thought that she didn't like the constellations.

Severus sat in the armchair that faced the fire. It was far more comfortable to read here than it was on his bed, which was where he usually sat. Another joy of the Winter Break One of the more irritable of the seventh year Slytherins – a lanky boy with dirty blonde curtains that framed his gaunt face - stepped into the common room and Severus caught his eye, as he glared at him.

"You Sev'rus?" he asked.

"That depends who's asking?"

"I'm asking, dickhead," he said, "and I'll take that for a 'yes'. There's a girl outside for you."

"Oh? Who?"

"How should I know?" the guy huffed. "Some redhead in a Gryffindor scarf."

Severus grinned and snapped his book shut.

"Wouldn't get excited. A girl like that's well out of your league."

"Actually," Severus said, his voice, thick with his pleasure, "she's my girlfriend."

"Bullshit!" the older boy laughed.

Severus puffed out his chest as he said, "I'm serious."

"Shit, well… you'd make the most of it. She won't stick around forever. Girls like that never do. Trust me."

He narrowed his eyes.

"She loves me…"

"Sure," he said, with a note in his voice so smug, that it sent irritation that seemed to come as physical prickles coursing through Severus' bloodstream, "for now."

"Piss off," he said. "For always!"

 _Okay, not my finest comeback,_ he thought, but it was accurate. He and Lily were that forever kind of love. If he couldn't make it work with her, he'd never make it work with anyone. They were perfect together – a balance of light and dark, fire and ice, softness and severity – they were meant to be, without a doubt. He knew it. Perhaps it would take a couple hours or twenty years... but one day, she would know it too. He wasn't so lovestruck that he was stupid. Of course, some people settle down with their high school sweethearts.

 _Gross._

But most couples eventually break up. He knew that even if he and Lily couldn't make it work indefinitely, they would make it work _eventually._

 _It's destiny._

Severus bounded across the room with more energy than he'd had all winter. He paused at the common room door, flattening the curve of his grin into a straight line before opening it. Lily leant against the wall of the corridor, with one foot flat against it. Her bag was slung over one shoulder and her hair was flipped and messy so that it appeared like she paid little attention to it, but Severus knew better. She cared about her appearance, and how she came across to others – and it worked. She was well-liked and popular with people across the school. Everyone seemed to like her. The only holdouts were the other Slytherins, naturally. Which he didn't mind too much because it meant that when the common room doors closed behind him, and he stepped down into the dorms, he could act as though she was all his. She was a secret that nobody else was privy to.

As she heard his footfall in the corridor, she turned to face him and dropped her bag to the floor. Her face crumpled with her sadness and Severus opened his arms and breathed a heavy sigh as she hid her face in his shoulder and her body heaved with sobs. He didn't revel in her sadness, but he did enjoy that he was the person who could help make her sadness go away.

"What has she done now?" Severus asked eventually – as educated as a guess could be - as she pulled away and dried her tears with the back of her hand.

"She's just a nightmare, Sev! Mum and Dad made her promise to be nice to me and so she was lovely on Christmas Eve _and_ Christmas Day but she just couldn't make it into the New Year without telling me how she feels about me. It's been years and she's still not over it. Whenever I start to prepare to go back to school—"

"She's jealous, Lil. You know that. Anyway, you're here now… You're back for good?"

"Yeah," she said, and Severus noticed a look of brief disappointment.

 _Damn. Shouldn't have changed the subject. She wanted to talk about it further. Perhaps you can bring the conversation back around…_

"Mum and Dad agreed to let me come back early. I said I had to study for my OWLs. I should probably make good on my promise."

Lily dropped her hand to Severus' side, and he took it into his hand by instinct.

"Come on," she said.

"You want to study?" he asked. "Now?"

She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"Well… I don't _just_ want to study."

* * *

 **February 1976.**

"Sev, we need to talk," Lily said.

Severus felt his stomach clench as she pulled him up the staircase and he followed behind her like an obedient dog with his tail between his legs. He didn't mind though. He would go wherever she wanted him to go. He always would. It was why their relationship worked so well. She benefitted by micromanaging and overseeing their entire relationship - what they did, who they hung out with; when they were on, when they were off. And he, Severus Snape, had the privilege of being in a relationship with Lily Evans, Gryffindor sweetheart.

It had taken a long time for her to realise that their relationship was more than platonic - she had denied it for so long, but he was patient, and he had waited... and finally she came around. He could have waited longer. He'd wait forever if he had to and he'd follow her to the end of the earth if only she would ask him to.

What she asked instead was much harder.

"Listen," she said, "I've been thinking…"

 _Of course you have._

"Your friends… the other Slytherins you hang out with. They're dangerous. I don't like them."

 _Of course you don't._

"You don't know them, Lily. They're not all bad."

"Pfft! Sure," she said.

"Anyway…" he interrupted before she could mount her high horse – "I don't exactly have many other friends. It's not like I can sit with you at lunch…"

She either did not hear him, or she chose to ignore him. He knew which one was more likely and it was the crueller of the two.

"I know that you're all planning on becoming Death Eaters…"

He sighed and Lily patted the bench next to her and he took his seat.

 _Great. This shit again._

Severus was pleased to find that the bench, although outside in the snow, was warm as though recently vacated and so he would at least not get piles as he was getting dumped.

 _Not the first time she's dumped me. Won't be the last._

"I don't trust them and I really wish you weren't friends with them," she said.

She glared at him. Her green eyes narrowed and he felt a tug in his chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he prepared for what she was about to say.

"But I trust you," she said, "and I trust your judgement…"

"Just not when it comes to Potter," Severus sniped.

"Do you really want to have this fight again?" Lily asked.

"Of course I don't want to fight, but just as you've told me what you think of _my_ friends, I'm telling you what I think of _yours_. I've told you a hundred times… you can't trust him. I wouldn't put it past him to slip you a love potion or something."

 _Not true. Potter wouldn't be so underhanded. He'd want to win fair and square so he could rub it in my face._

 _If I lose her to fucking Potter, I swear to God—_

"I'll keep an eye out," Lily said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. "I think I can handle James Potter. It's funny that you think that _he_ is dangerous, but you're more than happy to be friends with… er… them —"

 _She doesn't even know their names. I know every single one of her—_

 _No, Severus. This is the best thing that's ever happened to you. Don't mess up._

"Maybe I'm more protective of you than I am of myself," he said. "And, let's face it, I'm fiercely protective of our relationship. I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either. So please, Sev, I'm begging you! Pull your socks up and start acting like the good person that I know you are at your core…"

"And how do you suggest I go about doing that without alienating myself from the only two friends I have?"

She wrapped her arms around herself as she shrugged and pulled a face; almost a wince.

"Maybe start by being nice to Potter and his friends…"

 _Ha!_

"Absolutely not," Severus said, "That's where I draw the line. I'm not going to let the bloody Marauders treat me like dogshit and get away with it!"

"Maybe if you didn't retaliate—"

Severus felt the familiarity of a red-hot flash of anger and he balled his hands into fists.

 _Stay calm._

He took a deep breath. She tested him at times. It wasn't easy loving a girl like her, but it was worth it. He had to keep his temper.

 _Don't prove her right._

He spoke through gritted teeth.

"I have to protect myself, Lily…"

"Maybe," she said, "but you're way faster, smarter and more accomplished than they are and you know it. You probably could take on all four of them in a duel and win, I'm sure of it, so don't pretend you have to 'protect yourself'. I'm asking you, try not fight, Severus, please."

 _Faster. Smarter. More accomplished._

 _You're damn right, Lily Evans!_

"But they're always bloody testing my patience…"

"I know," Lily said, placing her hand on Severus' knee, "but please don't rise to it. I'm begging you."

He bit his tongue and took another deep breath.

"Fine," he said eventually. "I won't start anything and I will _try_ not to fight, but if they attack and I need to defend myself—"

"Then, by all means, do," Lily said, "please do!"

Severus nodded and watched as Lily stood from the bench and brushed a skeletal leaf from her jeans. She put her hand out for him to take, and as he did, she pulled him up to meet her.

"Don't use dark bloody magic either," she said. "I don't want Dumbledore to expel you. I like having you around."

He grinned.

"Oh yeah?"

Lily laughed – her lovely lilt of laughter that always brought joy to his day no matter how dark – and she wrapped her fingers inside his. He met her eyes and her face shifted to one of questioning.

"Sev, you do know that I love you, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know," Severus shrugged, "you've told me a hundred times."

"No," Lily said with another gentle laugh, "this is different. I don't mean I love you like a friend. I mean I _love you_ … love you."

"You do?" he said, trying desperately to play it cool as his heart beat in his throat. "I err—You know that—"

 _Oh my God. I have absolutely no idea what do now. This is unprecedented. She loves me._

 _Stand straight. Look cool._

"Love you too," he said, quickly, pulling himself tall.

 _Yeah. That's easy. Cool. Casual._

Her face folded into one of puzzlement or hurt.

 _Too casual?_

"I love you too," he said again, enunciating every damn word - he'd fucking scream it if it would make her happy.

 _Oh thank God,_ he thought, as her pout turned into a smile. He wanted to reach out to her. To touch her. To establish touch in some way. To curl his fingers into her skin to claim her as his.

 _Where do I normally put my arms? Around her shoulder?_

She kissed him then, and his arms fell to his side and then by instinct they moved up to the small of her back.

"Come on," she said, and he placed his hand in hers, "it's time."

She led him through the corridors, up the stairs to the Gryffindor tower.

"Lily—" he said, as he stood stock-still, staring at a portrait of a portly woman, snoozing in her chair. "What are we doing here?"

He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, in his fingers, in his twitchy fucking cock. He thought he knew what he was doing here. He thought he knew what she wanted. What he'd wanted for so long but he'd been so afraid to ask. And now, after all this time, was she finally ready?

"Follow me," she said in a voice that was about half an octave lower than usual and breathy like one of the singers that she liked to listen to on the radio.

She straightened her back and pushed out her chest and he struggled to keep his eyes on her face. She dropped her bag to the floor and smirked at him. He wasn't sure he liked it. She didn't need to put on a performance. He wanted Lily. He'd waited for years for _Lily_. Not whoever this was that she was pretending to be.

 _Unless…_

 _Am I supposed to pretend to be someone else too?_

"Are you sure?" Severus asked. "You're ready?"

The question mark in his voice was displaced by her exclamation.

"Oh, I'm sure!"

* * *

 **March 1976.**

Lily glared at Potter and his cronies from across Potions classroom and as her eyes flitted to Severus on the next table who was trying his best to concentrate on the lesson.

"Don't pretend you don't hear us, Snivellus!" barked Black.

"Leave it, Padfoot", the wolf said.

"Padfoot," Severus baulked. "Pathetic."

James puffed up his chest and straightened his shoulders.

 _Of course._

"Do we have a problem, Snape?"

"Fuck off, Potter! I'm trying to listen to Slughorn."

"Some of us don't have to listen," Black said. "Some of us are naturally gifted…"

"Who of 'us'? I know you're not talking about you."

Lily caught his eye again and she widened them, then she smiled and batted her lashes, as though that was supposed to make him feel better. Severus folded his arms and sat back in his chair. It would be time to brew soon.

"Oi!" he heard. "Psst. Snape!"

"Don't pay them any attention," Lily said aloud, with all the tact of a pneumatic drill.

 _Fucking brilliant._

Black threw his head back as he laughed and his long hair tumbled down his back, like a bloody Veela.

"Aww! Look, James," Black said, narrowing his eyes. "He's got his girlfriend to stick up for him."

She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head. Potter didn't say anything. His lips were tightly shut now. He wouldn't want to show his true colours in front of his precious _Evans._

"Bite me, Sirius," she said with a cocky little grin.

 _Is she flirting with him?_

"Can't believe you're sleeping with the enemy," Black said.

Severus locked his eyes with Lily as Black laughed.

 _It's just a turn of phrase,_ he told himself. _They don't know anything._

"What do you see in him, anyway, Evans?"

Lily smirked, as she said, "why? Are you jealous?"

"Maybe a little," Black said and Severus would have sworn that his grey eyes bloody well twinkled. "Seriously though. Why do you like him?"

 _I'm right here!_

"I can't explain it," she said.

She didn't mean it the way it sounded, he knew, but Severus felt his fingernails come sharp at his palm. He studied the grooves in his skin to avoid making eye contact with any of them, particularly Lily.

"You can't even defend him," Black said. You know as well as we do that he's a slippery, greasy, creepy—"

"Can't you be a good boy and lick your balls in private? Otherwise, I might have to have you neutered." Severus snapped, kicking the bench from behind him, grabbing his cauldron and turning to his class-partner. "Come on. There are seats free at the front."

"Bye-bye, Snivellus!"

* * *

 **April 1976.**

Severus peered over the stack of books in his arms and as he turned the corner into the corridor, he caught sight of a flash of auburn hair disappear behind the library doors. Severus couldn't explain why he did it – call it curiosity – but he followed. He dropped the books one by one and piled them neatly outside the door and pulled his wand from his pocket. He pushed open the doors and popped his head around. There was nobody to see, but he could hear her voice. Hear _his_ too.

 _Potter._

As the doors closed behind him, their voices lowered to whispers, but neither bothered to look to see who had entered.

 _They obviously don't care if I hear them_ , he decided, _so it's not eavesdropping_.

He moved towards the hushed sound coming from somewhere near the restricted section.

 _My section_.

Severus pressed his back to one of the bookshelves as he listened to their voices.

"— but I'm serious, Lily," Potter said. "You need to be careful. You're in over your head."

 _She's Lily today,_ he thought. _Not Evans._

 _Is this what he is like when he is alone with her? When he is not showing off for his buddies?_

"I am quite capable of looking after myself, thank you very much," Lily said sharply. "He's a good person, he just…"

"He practices dark magic! I know he's your boyfriend and you love him or whatever but he's dangerous—"

 _Of course, they're talking about me._

"I'm fine, really. It's none of your concern… and he's not used dark magic for ages so you can save your breath."

Severus smiled in spite of himself.

"Look, I know I've made a fool of myself in the past," Potter said, "but we're friends aren't we?"

"Yes, we are," Lily said, and she smiled.

 _A pretty little smile._

 _Fuck!_

"Right, so as your friend, I'm asking you to trust me."

Potter put his hand on Lily's arm and she didn't pull away. She looked at him with her sad little doe eyes and gave him a sympathetic smile.

"I'm telling you this as a friend. Severus uses dark magic. When you were off sick last week, in Potions, we were dicking around with him and he almost killed Wormt— Pettigrew…"

 _She's Lily and I'm Severus now, am I?_

"I'm telling you," Potter said, "he's not right… he's…"

Severus moved into their view.

"I'm _what_ Potter?" he spat.

Lily looked taken aback but Potter grinned as though he had been expecting him.

"Oh, there are just so many words that come to mind… ugly, cruel, depraved… but what I really mean… what it all boils down to… is that you're rotten. You're rotten to the core, Sniv— Severus."

Severus rolled up his sleeves and held out his wand.

"Maybe you should put your wand where your mouth is…"

Lily's eyes darkened as she stared at him and she snatched the wand from Severus' hand with such force that for a moment he thought she would snap it in two.

"Thank you, James," Lily snipped, shoving his wand into her pocket. "You can go. I need to speak with Severus."

Potter's smile was visible only to Severus as he took his bookbag from the desk and slung it over his shoulder.

"Lily, I—"

"Save it!" she snapped. "I'm done, Severus. I told you to back off."

"I did!" Severus said.

"Did you?!"

 _No,_ he thought. _I suppose not._

"I don't want to be a pushover. I won't let Potter strut around like he owns the place – like he owns you… I saw the way you looked at him."

Lily threw her hands in the air in frustration.

"This damn nonsense again!" she said. "I do not want to date James bloody Potter. He's arrogant and pretentious and not nearly as brave and clever as he thinks she is."

Severus smirked as he dropped his head – both ashamed of his actions and pleased with her.

"You can wipe the smile off your face," she said, "because I don't want to date you either."

 _She'll come round,_ he thought, as he reached his hand out for his wand and said, "fine."

 _She always comes back to me._

* * *

 **May 1976.**

The Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. exam had just given out, and Severus was feeling pleased with himself. He'd scribbled for the full hour, answered every question and even gone back over to add more detail. He was getting an 'Outstanding', there was no doubt about it. He caught sight of Lily from across the grounds and he dropped his head as he stalked across the grass, trying to avoid unwanted attention.

Attention came anyway.

"Alright, Snivellus?" he heard Potter say from behind him.

 _He never misses a bloody opportunity, does he?_ Severus thought as he pulled his wand from his robes, just as he thought of Lily and the promise he had made just days ago. _I will only defend myself,_ he'd said. He'd promised that before, but this time it was different. It was his last chance. Last time she'd dumped him, she'd only agreed to take him back after a hell of a lot of begging.

He swung around to Potter to see that his wand was outstretched and so Severus opened his mouth but he wasn't quick enough, as Potter yelled " _Expelliarmus!"_ and Severus' wand shot out of his hand and bounced into the grass.

 _Shit!_ _I'm unarmed._

 _Where's my wand?_

"Impedimenta", Potter said, as Severus moved towards where his wand had fallen, and he fell in a pathetic lump at Potter's feet.

 _Wandless magic,_ he thought. _Worth a shot!_

" _Entomorphis!_ Fuck! _Flipendo!_ Come on! _Titillando!_ Potter, you total shit! I'll have you. _Steleus!_ Fuck you! _Sectum_ fucking _sempra!_ You bastard! You cunt! _"_

"Wash your mouth out!" Potter said and all at once, Severus' mouth filled with soap.

"Leave him ALONE!" Severus heard from beside him as he spat bubbles from his mouth.

 _Lily._

"Lily, don't—" he tried to say, but he gagged on the foam on his tongue and he began to choke.

"I'll leave ol' Snivellus alone if you go out with me, Evans," Potter said.

 _We're Evans and Snivellus again now that he has an audience._

"I'd rather fuck the giant squid," she said, as she fell to Severus' feet and bundled his wand into his hand.

Severus' eyes darkened blacker even than usual as he pointed his wand at Potter.

"Fine," Potter said, understanding and he stopped the charm as he laughed. "That was soap in your mouth, by the way, Sniv. I know you're not familiar with it."

"Fuck you," Severus said, as he pointed his wand, to Potter's head.

"Don't," Lily warned.

It wasn't a question. It was a command, but it was too late, as a blast of light shot from Snape's wand and a laceration appeared on James' face; a deep cut from his cheekbone to his throat.

"Severus!" Lily snapped. "What the hell is the matter with you."

Severus pulled himself to full height. "Do you want me to just stand here and take it?"

"That was dark magic!" she yelled. "Heal him!"

Snape folded his arms and his eyes fell behind Lily, where the dog, the rat and the wolf pawed over their leader.

"Put him right!" Black roared, his wand square to Snape's eyes.

"Please, Sev."

He looked back to Lily.

"Now," she said. "Heal him now, or we're done, Severus!"

Severus sighed and muttered _, "Vulnera Sanentur"_ and he slumped under the weight of Lily's stare.

"You're dead, Snivelly," Black said as he tended to his friend.

Snape held his wand aloft, pointing it at the three of them but he couldn't help but look at Lily. Each time he looked away, his eyes drifted back. He had never seen her so disappointed.

 _This could be it._

 _The end._

And as she shrugged, and pushed past him, making her way towards the crowd that had formed around them, he felt his stomach drop. It was as though the world was upside down, and then, just for one second, one stupid, distracted second he lowered his wand. of He turned his back on the Marauders to look at Lily who was behind him now, and with a flash of light the world _was_ upside down and the onlookers gasped and tittered and howled as he hung upside down. As he rotated towards Potter, he felt gravity do what gravity fucking does and his cloak fell around his waist revealing his underwear – his old, sad, grey underwear that he'd been wearing since he was eleven because nobody cared to buy him new ones and he could hardly afford his own.

He heard Lily again then. She had come back. She had walked away and made him turn his back and now he was at the mercy of James fucking Potter who had never had the jump on him in his life and now, twice in one damn day he was at his mercy, because of her. Because of Lily and her insistence that he be good.

 _Well fuck being good,_ he thought. _And fuck you._

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" she yelled. "Take the curse off him!"

 _Curse,_ he thought. _Dark fucking Magic!_

 _But Potter is so precious. He can't do wrong, can he?_

 _But me? I'm pure fucking evil._

He tried to calm himself. Knew that he should. But he felt another flare of truest hatred as Potter muttered the counter-curse.

"There you go," Potter said with a sick grin. "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus."

 _Lucky? Lucky! You only got the better of me because of her._

He spoke without thinking, then – let the red-hot poker of his anger be the force behind his words.

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

Severus' blood ran cold.

 _Oh God._

"Fine," Lily said coolly. "I won't bother in future. And I'd wash my pants if I were you, Snivellus."

 _This is unforgivable._

 _What you have done is unforgivable._

"Lily," he begged, but she did not turn back to face him.

"Please! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" he yelled, but she didn't hear him because she was gone.

 _Please, Lily. Don't leave me. I love you. I need you. You're my whole world._

"Right," he heard Potter say just as he was thrust back into the air and found himself dangling upside down again, "who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"

The fear of his cock flapping in the wind for all to see was nothing compared to the absolute panic he felt as he watched Lily's flame-red hair turn into a ginger freckle in the distance. He had nothing to lose, he decided and with a burst of rage that came from his bones – and hatred that boiled in his blood he spat "Expelliarmus", and it was then that he performed his first piece of wandless magic, and Severus fell from the sky onto his head. He groaned as he pulled himself upright and clutched his hand to the soaring pain at his crown; as he pulled his hand away he saw that his fingers were stained with his blood.

"I didn't know you could bleed, Snivellus," Potter spat. "I figured that slime coursed through your veins."

Severus swiped his wand at Potter who immediately clutched his stomach.

"Cramps, Potter? I wonder… Will you shit yourself? Or have you finally started your period!?"

"Don't get your dirty little knickers in a twist," Black said.

The crowd snickered and Severus turned to face them. He caught sight of one face, in particular, that was pink with his joy. The older Slytherin with the dirty blonde curtains – the one who had told him that he and Lily were doomed.

"Don't laugh at me," Severus said.

"Lighten up," the older boy replied.

' _She won't stick around forever', he'd said. 'Girls like her never do.'_

 _Fuck you,_ he thought, _FUCK YOU,_ as he jabbed his wand at the boy, and just as Potter had to him minutes before, he flipped the kid upside down.

"You think it's funny now?" Severus snapped.

The kid tried to pull his robes around his knees, but just as it had for Severus, gravity did its job and revealed the kid's undies for everyone's amusement.

"No," the kid said, "it's not funny. I'm sorry—"

"Lighten up!" Severus said, darkly.

"Shall I pull off his knickers?" Severus asked.

The crowd of kids began to chant their response of "YES! YES! YES!"

"Snape! Come on! Leave him alone!" he heard Potter say behind him. "It's not funny."

Severus whipped around.

"What?! It's not funny anymore?" he screeched – he was completely out of control now. "When it's not Snivellus with his cock out, it's suddenly NOT SUCH A LAUGH?!

He couldn't help but feel pleased with himself as the kid in the air began to cry. He felt powerful. He hadn't felt powerful for years. This might well be the first time he'd ever felt powerful!

"Okay," Potter said, "we're sorry, aren't we boys?"

They all nodded - even Black cleared his throat and whispered: "yeah, sorry, Snape."

He looked at the kid, he was frightened and ashamed- he mirrored Severus exactly.

 _Fuck,_ he thought. _I've gone too far._

"Good," he said, clearing his throat, taking a deep breath and lowering his wand.

But the decision was out of his hands now.

One of the other Slytherins pulled out his wand and with a flash of light, the boy jerked back into the air and his underwear came clean off. The boy squealed as his pants ripped through the air and landed somewhere in the crowd of people who raised their voices as a chorus of screaming and cackling, accompanied by 'EW's and 'DON'T's and 'GROSS'es.

"Oh my god," one of the boys said, before bursting with howling laughter.

"SKIDMARKS!" another yelled.

Severus felt his cheeks grow hot.

"Alright now," he said to the crowd at large. "Let's just leave him alone. He's had enough."

The crowd did not pay him a moment of attention and he even found himself turning to Potter for help but he just shrugged his shoulders and looked as sick and confused as Severus did. Then Potter's face changed from the pink of confusion and sickness to a deathly white of true shame and disbelief and Severus turned around to see that the kid was drenched with… with…

 _Fuck._

 _No. No. Oh no!_

 _He's pissed himself._

It was Lupin who spoke first. It was the first time he'd ever heard him raise his voice.

"All of you," he said, "get the fuck out of here before I rip you open…"

Everyone had heard rumours of Lupin's lycanthropic secret. Nobody dared to risk it. The crowd dispersed just in time, as McGonagall came into view.

 _I can't tangle with McGonagall right now,_ he thought and shared one last look of disgust with Potter – except this time, their disgust was not with one another, but with themselves _._ As McGonagall hitched her skirt and began to hurry and Lupin and Pettigrew moved to take care of the older boy, Severus began to back out of sight, not daring to make any sudden movements.

It didn't matter though, as the older kid with the dirty curtains turned to him.

"If you so much as touch me ever again," the Slytherin said, "I will kill you."

Typically Severus' immediate reaction to such a threat was to smirk, to laugh, to mock – but not today. Something in the boy's eyes told him that he meant it.

* * *

 **Now.**

Severus blanched.

 _Oh my God. I remember now._

"This is all my fault. Everything that has happened… I'm so sorry."

"Oh," Hermione said, and she gave him a gentle and sorrowful smile. "The man who followed us… who tried to kill us… it was him… that kid."

"Yes," Severus said. "I can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner. I all but traumatised him…"

"It was a long time ago," Hermione said. "And we were so sure it was Cressida. Don't blame yourself—"

"I do blame myself", Severus said, brushing over Hermione's words. "Do you know what the worst part is?"

"What?" she asked.

"I couldn't even tell you his name."

* * *

 **AN:** It will all come together, I swear, haha!


	21. Chapter 21

21\. Strangers

 **H.**

The crack between the curtains had faded from a golden brown to a pure black in the time that they had slaved over the letters on the Malfoy dining table. Draco and Jessica had taken the envelopes with the intention of matching handwriting. A dead end, they presumed, but they couldn't afford to assume, not anymore.

Narcissa sat beside Hermione as they trawled through page after page of menace. It had transpired that the letter Lucius had received was not the only one. It was, in fact, one of four – all with the same theme – 'you know what you did'. Which was no help to anyone because nobody could figure out what exactly they _had_ done.

Severus and Lucius paced as they spoke to one another, trying to decide who it was that had it out for them.

"If the same person sent us both letters then it has to be someone we both know," Lucius said.

"Thank you for that keen insight," Severus snapped.

"Come on now, love," Narcissa said as she flipped another letter and passed it to Hermione to inspect. "I know you're worked up, but there's no need to take it out on my husband."

Severus nodded and pulled out a chair for Lucius and another for himself as he mumbled, "right, sorry."

Lucius puffed up his cheeks and blew out air.

"It's fine."

"Right… okay," Snape said. "You're sure you don't know him, Luce? Tall kid, kind of lanky with limp blonde hair. He was in seventh year when I was in fifth, so…"

"That would make him four years below me? Look, I might know who you're talking about – but he's just some kid whose face I saw a couple of times in the common room… I don't remember a single thing about him…"

"You were a bloody prefect," Severus said. "How can you not remember?"

"How can _you_ not remember," Lucius retorted with a prod to Severus' chest. "You're the one who pissed him off."

"Did you just poke me?"

Lucius sat forward in his chair.

"I thought it might help you remember! Whatever you did to him to upset him, he's certainly not forgotten."

"Oh, you're so bloody helpful—"

"Cut it out, boys!" Narcissa said, sharing a look of exasperation with Hermione. "Good god, they're like little children."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and smirked. It wasn't quite the right time to laugh, she knew, but if she couldn't find the humour in the situation she'd go mad.

She needed to problem solve, she decided. She was in a room filled with capable witches and wizards, yet none of their logic rivalled hers. Nobody except Severus anyway and he seemed to be far too busy bickering with Lucius.

 _If this isn't exactly the type of happenstance that I revel in, then nothing is. I can finally be bloody useful again._

 _Come on, Hermione. Think. Plot. Plan._

Hermione sank back into her chair and stared at the pattern in the ceiling. How she wished that she could find the answer in a book. The answer was somewhere among the letters, she figured… somewhere in their collective memory. It felt as though the solution was in her periphery, if she could just see the fucking clues, she would be all set.

Mystery solved. Game over.

 _This was so much easier when it was the work of a scorned lover._

They had been certain it was Cressida, hadn't they?

 _Did we just assume? Did I…?_

"Severus, why were we so sure the letters were from Cressida?" Hermione asked.

He broke off from his conversation with Lucius – the beginning of another petty argument, she assumed – and he furrowed his brow.

"I can't remember," he said.

"Really? You don't recall?" Lucius asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. "Do you not remember anything?"

"I remember the important things," Severus said, and Hermione thought she saw him straighten his back and grow three inches.

"Quick then," Lucius said, "when's my birthday?"

"That's easy. It's the third of FUCK OFF AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK YOU KNOW!"

"Ooh. So close. It's the _fifth_ of fuck off and tell me what…"

Lucius trailed off as he met Severus' narrowed eyes of irritation and his raised eyebrows of contempt.

"Fine, I'll be serious," he said, with a sulk to his voice. "God, you're so boring when your life is in danger."

"Funny that…"

Lucius shrugged.

"You got a howler from her… Does that ring any bells?"

Both Severus and Hermione's eyes met and widened as though they mirrored one another.

"The owl," Severus said and she nodded at him.

"We didn't see another bird and it was _her_ voice in the howler, I'm certain."

"I know," Snape said, dropping his elbows to the table and resting his heavy head against his steepled fingers.

"It was the same bird, Severus."

"I know!" he repeated, irritably. "So what are we saying? That Cressida sent all the threats but the person who attacked us was the kid from Hogwarts and it's all just a bloody big coincidence?"

"I don't like coincidences," Narcissa said, as she slid the pile of letters across the table, irritably.

"Neither do I," Severus said.

"Don't forget about Ron," Jessica chimed in from across the table. "I still think he's involved. The map… the howler… then a _wizard_ follows you into _muggle London_ and knows exactly where to find you? What's that? Another coincidence?"

"She's right," Lucius said, pressing his balled fists to his hips.

Severus placed his hand on Hermione's shoulder and squeezed.

"And someone followed you when you were in London, Hermione… when you were still with Weasley… Before you and I—"

"That was him too," Jess said, folding her arms. "I'm calling it now."

"So where does that leave us?" Narcissa asked. "What do we think is going on here?"

Hermione looked at Severus, whose face was blank as he turned to Lucius.

"Any thoughts?" Narcissa said. "Anyone?"

"Well… We're all connected to each other," Lucius said. "We're friends and family and lovers and spouses and co-workers. We all went to Hogwarts, we all got letters…"

"Seventy-five percent of us were Death Eaters," Draco said, with a shrug. "Don't think we can dismiss that."

"If this was a mystery novel and I was a betting man," Lucius said. "I'd put money on it _all_ being connected. Our letters. Your letters. The map. The howler. Being followed in London. The attempt on your life. All of it! Weasley, Cressida, the Slytherin kid. All of _them_! All of _us_!"

:

 **S.**

 _He's right._

"God, if only I knew who he was… You must know him," Severus said.

"I'd wager that Narcissa knows him," Lucius said. "She was batting off the advances of Slytherins of all ages, left right and centre in her last year, so I hear. Not that I had noticed her…"

He leant in towards Hermione and spoke quietly and furtively.

"She was a bit plain, you see," he said, wrinkling his nose and winking at his wife.

"I was a late bloomer," Narcissa said as she playfully narrowed her eyes at him.

"Narcissa… listen… I could show you," Severus said excitedly, interrupting the play, as his eyes shot open – he looked the very picture of a madman. "You can Occlude better than most, so you'd probably pick up Legilimency in a heartbeat."

"We don't have a heartbeat," Lucius warned.

"I know," Severus said, "but I don't know what else to do…"

They each sat back in their chair and fixed their gaze on a different spot in the room as they concentrated.

"All of this started when you broke up with Cressida, right?" Lucius asked eventually.

Severus nodded.

"No coincidences," Narcissa said, as she folded her arms and lay back in the chair, crossing her legs and closing her eyes.

"So, she's involved," said Severus.

"She's a damn psycho," Lucius said with a snip of laughter. "Of course she's involved. Weasley's involved too. He's hardly any better. Plus… he's the only one we're certain knows… and let's face it… _hates_ us all… He's also the one with the means of finding you."

Severus glanced at Hermione who opened her mouth to protest before snapping it shut and rolling her eyes.

"Yes, alright," she said. "Fine. Perhaps Ron is involved… but I refuse to believe he wants me dead."

"What about me?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do you refuse to believe he wants _me_ dead? The man who stole his girl. Or Lucius? The man who gave his sister Riddle's fucking diary… the man who almost killed her…"

Lucius was not paying attention to what was happening in the room. His eyes were fixed on the window.

 _Hopefully he'll return to the room with the answer._

"Right… Everyone's involved then," Jessica said sharply, pulling her chair closer to the table. "Occam's Razor. The simplest solution is the right solution. No coincidences. They're all working together. All three of them. Maybe the bloody sister is involved too…"

"That's fucking brilliant but how the hell would they know each other?"

"Back off, Snape!" Draco said, pulling himself to full height. "You're out of order."

 _Little turd._

 _But he's right._

Severus sighed.

"Sorry, Jess. I'll be much less of an arsehole when this is all put to rest."

"Don't bank on it," Draco said and shared a subtle grin with Jessica.

 _Not fucking subtle enough_.

 _Not undeserved either._

"Look, Severus," Hermione said, perching on the edge of the table and placing her hand on his shoulder.

He hadn't noticed her get up from her seat.

"We don't know Cressida," she said. "She's the unanswered question. I think the answer lies with her. I mean… Who is she?"

Lucius cleared his throat then and jerked his head towards the window to draw their attention to the face that appeared in the crack between the curtains.

"Why don't we ask her?"

:

 **H.**

Severus shot out of his chair faster than she'd ever seen him move. Hermione took off behind him and reached out for his hand as he pushed open the double doors of Malfoy Manor. Footsteps followed behind them - all of them ready for answers that might finally come. Severus' fist wrapped around her fingers, unaware how tightly as he held his wand arm to the woman. Hermione clutched her own wand and prepared to fight but the woman's hands were open palms at her side.

"Cressida?" Severus asked, as though they didn't know who peered at them from the dim light of the illuminated fenceposts that surrounded the grounds.

"Yeah, Severus. Is me. Surprised?"

"What are you doing here?"

The woman did not reply, she just looked at the grass beneath her feet.

"Come to make good on your threat?"

She shrugged.

"I dunno what you mean," Cressida said – her voice was hurried, almost slurred.

Hermione felt Severus' grip on her hand tighten as he raised his voice to say; "tell me what you are doing here, Cressida!"

"I said I dunno," she said with a shrug. "Just wanted to see you."

 _She's been drinking._

"Are you following us?" Snape asked with an edge of impatience.

"Not us..." she said. " _You_ maybe."

 _Definitely been drinking. She's bloody pickled._

"How did you know I was here?"

"Severus…"

"Answer me," he snipped. "I'm not fucking about. Tell me how you found me!"

Cressida physically recoiled into her own body at the sound of Severus' anger. Hermione looked at Severus, then to Cressida and smiled, as though she could urge him to be a little gentler. He wanted answers, but he wasn't going to get them from her in this state by being pushy. It was too dark and Cressida too unfamiliar for Hermione to interpret the emotion on her face.

 _She doesn't look particularly murderous._

As Severus again asked his question in a tone that told them both that this was the last time he would ask it, the woman raised her head and her face was alight by the lamp of the porch above them. Severus dropped Hermione's hand and stepped forward with his wand steady in his fist and the woman did not move. But Hermione did. She placed her arm in front of Severus and he stopped dead.

"Hermione," he warned her, but she kept her hand in front of him.

"Look at her," she said. "God… _listen_ to her…She's drunk. She's unarmed… You're unarmed, right?"

Cressida nodded exaggeratedly.

 _Her eyes. Her face. She doesn't look filled with homicidal rage… she looks…_

"Oh, I see," Hermione said, "you're not angry."

Cressida snorted.

"He left me!" she shrieked, then turned her focus to Severus whose arms were now folded tightly around his chest. "You left me! You broke my heart… you should pay! So yes I'm angry… I'm damn furious."

Hermione heard footsteps behind her.

"No you're not," Narcissa said. "You're sad…"

Narcissa and Hermione shared a look of understanding.

"I don't think she means you any harm, love. She's not angry…"

"Darling, don't be silly. What does it matter if she's sad or if she's angry," Lucius said, as though Cressida was not there, and Hermione supposed that she was not there entirely. "She threatened you… Threated us all… That makes her a threat. We should—"

Lucius swallowed, then leant in to the group and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "we should discretely eliminate her… like we used to…"

"What is the matter with you?" Narcissa said.

"Fine. We don't have to kill her. We can just alter her memory…"

"Fucking hell, Luce," Snape said. "Tell me you're joking."

"What? I've been so good and so boring for the better part of a decade. A decade is so long! Please can't I just be a little bit wicked? Just once…"

"No!" Narcissa said with a snip to her voice as though she was scolding an excitable dog.

Hermione half expected to hear, 'no Lucius! Bad Lucius!'

Instead, Narcissa said: "whoever threatened them, whoever attacked them… they were angry…"

"So?" Lucius said.

"So, Cressida's sad…" Hermione said. "Truth be told, she's kind of pathetic… She's not who we're looking for. Are you?"

Cressida's face was vacant as she made eye contact with Hermione.

"What?"

"God, it's like talking to Luna fucking Lovegood. We don't have time for this. Cressida!" Severus snapped. "The man who attacked us… what do you know about it?"

Cressida stared blankly at Severus, blinking as her face contorted and fat tears came rolling from her eyes.

"Oh shit. Okay, I'm sorry," he said in a voice so soft, that the words rang true - whether or not they were, Hermione didn't know. "I won't be angry. I just want to know how you found me here."

:

 **S.**

"Please, I promise. I won't be mad… just tell me."

"I figured you'd be with her," Cressida said and glanced quickly to where Hermione stood. "I thought if I went to where she was then I would find you."

He felt a kick of understanding in his stomach as things began to make sense.

"And how did you know where she was?"

"Because I have this," Cressida said cautiously, and from her cloak, she revealed a piece of parchment that she passed to Severus as though it contained secrets of national security.

He knew what it was immediately. Weasley's map. It confirmed his suspicions. It confirmed everything he thought he had known about Weasley from the beginning.

 _So he is involved!_

"How do you have this?" Hermione asked, snatching it from Snape's hand and wagging it in front of Cressida.

 _So much for taking a lighter approach._

He opened his mouth to remind her not to get too worked up when Narcissa spoke.

"What is that?" she asked, peering over Hermione's shoulder. "Why does it have your name… is that…"

Narcissa grabbed the map and stared at it.

"Is that my house? Good god."

Narcissa held the map out for Hermione to take.

"It's a stalkers manual," Hermione said and she shoved it into Cressida's chest as she said, "of course you fucking have it… heaven forbid I have my privacy!"

"Why are you so cold?" Cressida asked her.

"I'm cold?!" Hermione shrieked.

"Yes," Cressida said, her voice turning thick with sadness as her eyes again filled with tears. "You're so mean."

"Mean? Ha! She raised her voice, boohoo! I was prepared to kill you," Lucius said matter-of-factly. "You're in a room full of Death Eaters, love. Mean is the least of your worries…"

"Lucius, leave it—" Narcissa said.

"No. She needs to watch her mouth."

Hermione and Lucius shared a look of understanding – of humour and friendship. God, he wanted to join in. He wanted to be the one to defend her. He wanted to stand at _her_ side and everything to go back to normal, but no! He needed answers, and Cressida had them, and so he had to stay there and play the starring role in this shitshow.

"Did you send us threatening letters?"

She shook her head. She didn't look deceitful but what the hell did he know? He was seriously beginning to doubt his instincts. He'd been so wrong with Cressida before. But he'd been right with Weasley… and right with Hermione.

She stood with her arms folded, leaning against the doorframe. He caught her eye and gave her a tight-lipped smile. She nodded as though to tell him that everything was okay, but everything was not okay, was it?

"You sent the howler," he said.

"I was devastated! she sobbed. "I was ruined!"

 _She'd give bloody Myrtle a run for her money._

"I wanted you to know that you'd hurt me… You were so careless…"

"But the other letters weren't you?"

"What other letters?"

He stared at her – his eyes locked with hers – and then he sighed and held his hand out so that she could link her arms in his.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get you sobered up."

:

 **H.**

It was a turn around so sudden and so severe, that Hermione thought that it was a work. But her hope of his other agenda disappeared as he helped to guide her into Malfoy's drawing room and brought her a cup of coffee. Draco disappeared upstairs and returned with a sobering potion.

"I've got a bunch more under my old bed if you need any more," he said, kindly.

Narcissa raised her eyebrows as he passed the potion to Cressida. Draco met his mother's eyes defiantly.

"Oh, like you were a saint when you were young."

Hermione felt a prickle of irritation as she watched Severus hand Cressida a glass half-filled with the sobering potion. It was the way that he sat, the way that he looked at her. It was silly and immature, she knew – completely unwarranted too - to be jealous. Cressida needed someone to take care of her now and Severus was the only person she knew. It wasn't romantic.

 _It's not. It's absolutely not._

Plus, he was hardly interested. He has chosen her – he loved her – and yet, seeing him take care of a woman that he'd shared a bed with was just too far, and here she stood once more jealous and insecure in her relationship.

 _Setbacks are normal,_ she told herself. _Every once in a while even the most healthy relationships have their obstacles. A little jealousy is healthy. It's not possessive. Not like Ron. It's not the same. It's not like you'd create a bloody map to —_

"Hermione?"

Hermione jerked back to the present and took in the six pairs of eyes that stared at her as though waiting for her to speak. She did not even know whose voice had brought her back to attention.

"What?"

"I believe her," Severus said.

"That's great," Hermione said, with a smile she didn't mean and one nod too many that gave her away. "I think that maybe I should go confront Ron. I need to know what he has to do with all of this..."

Severus' eyebrows drew together with concern.

"Weren't you listening? Cressida bumped into Weasley a couple of days ago – they met when we were on a date and it seems that they recognised one another and had anger at me in common."

"Always bringing people together, Severus," Lucius said, and Snape almost cracked a smile.

"Cressida only sent the howler… not the letters... she's told us everything she knows…"

"She sent the howler… and Ron gave her the map… What about the threats? Who was following us? How did they know where to find us? I thought we assumed that the person who attacked us had the map… how else would they have found us in muggle London… and so it follows that…"

"I know it looks bad," Cressida said, "but I promise… I don't have anything to do with this."

The sobering potion seemed to be doing its job, as Cressida's drunken sorrow was shifting to sober shame. She recognised the face. She'd seen that face in the mirror more than once.

"I'm sorry…"

"And you didn't give it to anyone else?" Hermione asked.

"No, it's been with me the whole time… to work, back home again… to my Dad's… that's it. I've not let it out of my sight."

Hermione looked at Severus who shrugged.

"I know it doesn't answer everything..." he said.

"You believe her?"

"Yes," he said. "I do."

"Well that's good enough for me," she heard herself say.

And she was surprised to find that it was true. She might not trust Cressida, or even Ron now, but she trusted Severus. His judgement was fallible like everyone else's but for the most part, he had good instincts about people.

"Your father then?" Lucius asked. "Perhaps he was protecting his daughter? Defending her honour?"

"Why would he? It's not the first time I've been dumped… Sure it won't be the last."

"So the Slytherin kid attacking you was just a coincidence?" Lucius asked, looking to Snape. "We're accepting coincidences now, are we?"

"Who's 'the Slytherin kid?'" Cressida asked.

"We don't know. He won't tell us. It's some kid he picked on and embarrassed when he was at school, apparently. That's all he'll say. So what we have to go on is that he was tall and blonde thirty years ago… we're so grateful that Severus is so forthcoming... he's helpful like that."

"What do you want from me, Luce?! It's not like I have a photograph… I even sent owls to Hogwarts… to Minerva and Horace… they don't know who I'm talking about either… All I know is what I've told you… and that he wants me dead… which is, unfortunately… not too uncommon."

"God! What did you do to this kid to fuck him up so much? There are people you _literally tortured_ who hate you less…"

Everyone's attention was on Severus as he sighed.

"It's awful… I was awful…"

"Of course," Lucius said. "We're all awful... Dreadful, in fact. Well… except perhaps Jess and Hermione…"

"I'm not awful," Cressida argued.

"Of course not, love," drawled Lucius.

 _Ha!_

:

 **S.**

The conversation turned back to Severus. They were all waiting on him to tell his secret. It was the secret he had never dared tell them. Even when he told Narcissa about his 'worst memory', he'd ended the story with Lily walking away never to speak to him again. That was bad enough, wasn't it? Did the memory really have to keep going? Couldn't it stop there?

He'd wanted to tell Narcissa. He knew she wouldn't judge him, and yet he could never bring himself to say the words. He'd never dared to finish the story. But this morning, with Hermione, it was different. He'd started to tell her about Potter and his cronies… about Lily… and he'd tried to shut his mouth, to end the story where he'd grown accustomed to ending it, and yet, he continued to talk. There was something in the way that she sat beside him, clutching his hand, stroking her fingers across his knuckles, never once hesitating. She did not look angry or ashamed. She did not pity him, nor was she displeased with him. She had accepted the story, exactly as it was. Just as she had accepted him, exactly as he was. Just as she had when she pulled him out of the shrieking shack. And so, he'd told her everything, and the world continued to turn. She still loved him. Just as Narcissa would love him. Just as Lucius.

"When I was at school, I was always butting heads with James Potter and his buddies… Sirius Black, Pettigrew and Lupin… you know… the wolf?"

Lucius nodded.

"I told Narcissa about some of it… But they got the upper hand and dangled me in the fucking air and I was sad and angry…"

"How did they get the upper hand? You could run rings around those three…"

"Lily," Severus said and Lucius nodded as though he did not need to explain further. "Well, they let me down eventually and I was so angry… You know what I was like when I was younger…"

"Explosive," Narcissa said regretfully, and Severus didn't like the picture that was forming on her face.

 _Anger? Sadness? What is that? Fear?_

 _Are you frightened of me?_

"This seventh-year kid was laughing at me… so I decided to vent my frustrations… on him…"

:

 **H.**

There was a flash of something across Narcissa's face that looked a lot like fear, as she said, "and what happened?"

"Some of the other Slytherins flipped him upside down and embarrassed him, they took his clothes off… and he…"

Severus couldn't finish the sentence. Hermione recognised his shame – had seen it there when he had first told the story. But Severus' shame was overshadowed by the look of horror on Narcissa's face.

"He wet himself, and so that's we think that he's after Severus as revenge…"

The flash again came across Narcissa's face.

 _Fear. She's definitely frightened._

"Well, no wonder he wants you dead…" Lucius said, trailing off and furrowed his brow as he looked at Narcissa.

 _He sees it too._

"What? Darling… Why are you looking at me like that? Narcissa?"

"It can't be! It just can't be…"

The words of realisation didn't come from Narcissa, however, but from Cressida. Hermione hadn't looked at the woman, but now that she did, she saw that her mouth was agape and her face was contorted with confusion.

"Did you say that this man attacked you?"

"He tried to fucking kill me!" Severus snipped.

"No," she said. "He wouldn't."

Severus' head snapped to Cressida, but Hermione's gaze kept drifting to Narcissa. Her face was white as her hair and her grey eyes were wide.

"What do you mean? _Who_ are you talking about?"

Cressida was shaking her head, looking at the ground – her arms were wrapped around her stomach in self-comfort as though she was trying to process something too awful to comprehend.

"Severus…" she said. "Oh God. Forgive me. This is all my fault. The map… It went missing, just for the evening… I thought I'd misplaced it. I'm sorry. Oh, God."

"What are you talking about?" Severus asked, as he stood tall and menacing above her, casting her into his shadow. "If you know something you'd better tell me…"

"Don't be angry, please," she said. "I'm sure it's all a big misunderstanding. He'd never want to hurt you…"

Lucius was clearly becoming more irritated by the minute. Narcissa still stared at the ground, looking as though she had seen a damn ghost, and yet offered no explanation. And what? Cressida was ready to take the blame now? She was so full of answers all of a sudden, even though just minutes ago she had denied all knowledge and all involvement.

"If someone doesn't explain to me what the hell is going on…" warned Lucius.

"Agreed," Hermione said.

"I think I know who you're talking about…"

"Would you care to elaborate?"

Cressida pulled herself to full height too.

"Only if you promise not to go rushing into anything until we're sure—"

"Who is 'we'?" Lucius said, sharply. "I thought you said you weren't involved…"

"Yeah, well maybe I was wrong. You see, my father has a story like that," Cressida said – her eyes were dark, her face serious and her voice was shrill. "It'd be an awful coincidence, wouldn't it, if my _Slytherin_ father was also…"

"You think your father is the kid that Severus humiliated?" Lucius asked.

"That depends... did you steal his girlfriend too?"

:

 **S.**

"What?!" Severus said, genuinely baffled. "No?!"

"Fine. Maybe I'm wrong… but Dad told me a story years ago… apparently, before he met my mother, he was in love with a pretty witch who broke his heart. He knew she was unfaithful to him but he couldn't prove it. Then she left him for no reason, without an explanation, without even so much as a goodbye. He was livid when he got word that the guy that she left him for was this kid who humiliated him at school. A kid who tormented him… who hung him upside down… who took off his clothes… He was devastated… he tried to find her. He sent her numerous letters to different addresses, hoping to find her – he just wanted to talk to her but she wouldn't spare him even a moment of his time…"

"No," Narcissa said. "It's not possible. No."

 _Oh my God._

"Narcissa… do you remember what you said when we showed you the letters? You said that we should take them seriously because you'd received letters just like them when I ended things with—"

"No," she said again, her voice cold and terrified. "No!"

 _Cressida… Cressida what?_

 _God, did I never even ask her surname?_

 _Did she tell me? Did I listen?_

"He sent a letter here!" Lucius roared. "He dares!"

"He knows where I live?" Narcissa said. "He's known all this time?"

All at once, what was left of the colour of Narcissa's face drained like water from a cullender and both Severus and Lucius rushed to her, helping her onto her chair. Draco and Jessica moved swiftly to her side. Only Hermione stayed where she was. Open-mouthed, tongue poking between her lips just a little as she concentrated. He fancied that he could see the cogs in her brain physically turning as she began to put the pieces together.

"It can't be…" Narcissa said.

"No coincidences," Severus said apologetically.

Narcissa's voice shook as she asked the question to which they already knew the answer.

"Cressida... who is your father?"

Cressida paused as though she wasn't sure she wanted to give up her father's name. She looked guiltily at Severus then back to Narcissa.

"Tobin Rogers," she said.

Draco was the only person in the room who did not react immediately.

"What is going on…" he asked. "Who is Tobin Rogers?"

Severus opened his mouth to answer, but his attention was drawn to his left where Lucius stood in front of Narcissa, his body crouched and wide in a duelling stance Severus had not seen since their days working for The Dark Lord. Lucius pulled his wand from his robes and pointed it sharp and terrifying between Cressida's eyes.

"Tobin Rogers used to date your mother. He was a sack of shit! He was cruel to her… he belittled her… he destroyed her self-esteem until she was a shell of the woman she is now," Lucius said.

"He accused me of being unfaithful," Narcissa said, her fear dissipating, replaced by growing anger. "Every time I denied it, he got more and more pissed off – more and more terrifying - until he turned violent. I did not leave him 'for no reason'…

Narcissa turned to Cressida whose face was white and panicked, and she looked as though she wanted to point her own wand at the woman.

"I left him because I thought he would kill me… I did not say goodbye or respond to his letters because I didn't think I was safe. I ended up in the Dark Lord's pocket because he offered me protection from Tobin… I would never have become a Death Eater if it wasn't for him."

"Which is exactly why I swore that if I ever met him, I would kill him," Lucius said through gritted teeth, his eyes firm on Cressida. "I wanted to destroy him… to make him beg for his life… I wanted him to hurt like he hurt my wife. I wanted to kill him… But I'll settle for killing you."


	22. Chapter 22

22\. Surrender

 **S.**

Lucius' knuckles were white; his fist tight around his wand. Severus' felt his heart batting in his ears, as though it had literally jumped up to his throat. It is a truth well-accepted that in times like this, the world moves in slow motion. That time stands still. And it did, just for a moment, as Lucius opened his mouth as though to speak, and then, the world jutted and restarted, and the present unfolded quickly and frantically, and everything happened at once.

"Please," Cressida said, her face pink and sticky with tears. "Please don't hurt me! I didn't know! I swear! I didn't know anything."

"A coincidence then?" Lucius spat.

"Yes!" she said. "I swear. I didn't know who he was... who you were…"

"No coincidences!"

"Lucius! If you think I'm going to stand here and let you hurt her…" Jessica warned.

"Jess, we should stay out of it… Let Mum talk to him, okay?"

Draco looked at his mother and urged her to act, with his wide grey eyes.

"Darling, please…" Narcissa said, raising both her hands as though to show his that she was unarmed.

 _Is she?_

"… Don't do anything rash," she said. "I beg you."

There was panic in her voice. Panic on Cressida's face. Jessica's and Hermione's too. Severus could see her beside him, itching to intervene.

Severus remembered reading once that if someone held their wand to your head you should try, in the face of the insane, to stay calm. Remain stoic. Because, he'd read, the worst thing you can do is panic the person who holds your life in their hands. You need them to remain calm. They need to think clearly. The only thing more terrifying than a person holding a weapon, is a person with a weapon, who is beginning to lose control.

It was why he had stood still in the face of The Dark Lord in the Shrieking Shack. The reason he didn't fight back; didn't even raise his voice. Neither Cressida or Narcissa had read the book because their voices came louder and more terrified.

"Darling! Stop this nonsense…"

"No! She needs to explain herself!"

"I don't know anything!" she said again, this time louder, almost as a yell.

Lucius rolled his eyes. It was not just a gesture of irritation. It was nonchalant. It was cold.

 _Frightening, almost. Even to me._

Severus felt something knotted and heavy in his stomach.

 _Dread,_ he thought. _This will not end well._

"Put your wand down, Lucius!" Narcissa urged.

"Please," Cressida begged, "I'll tell you anything you want to know. I'll do anything you ask me to, but I promise I didn't know!"

"Perhaps we should hear her out—" Severus said, but he did not finish the thought - it wasn't honest - he wasn't sure he wanted to hear her out.

Lucius looked as though he was hardly listening. Severus wondered if he even saw another face in the room. If he was aware anyone else spoke. He was fixed on Cressida – his eyes were wide and unblinking – hers too. They mirrored each other, both terrified, neither more so than the other. None more so than he, he reckoned, as the lead ball of dread in his stomach laced itself tighter.

"I didn't know who he was! I didn't know about my father either. Please, Lucius…"

"Don't talk to me as though I'm your friend!"

"I'm sorry!" she said, her voice high like a yelp.

"Quiet!" he barked.

He dropped his wand and pressed his fingers to his temples as though he could concentrate if he just pressed the right spot. Her hands were flat palms of surrender, that she tried to hold steady, but her fingers shook. It was then that he realised that the thing in the pit of his stomach wasn't dread. It was anticipation.

"Oh God, please…" – her voice was hardly audible now; a trembling whisper - "… please don't hurt me."

"Lucius," Narcissa said again, this time gently. "Come on, love. This isn't right."

 _If anyone can get through to him, she can,_ Severus thought, although part of him hoped that she couldn't change his mind. That their screaming stressed him into action. Because Severus had stood in front of the Dark Lord in the Shrieking Shack and he had done exactly as he was told to do in life or death situations. He had stayed calm. He had tried to reason with him. He had looked him in the eye. He had humanised himself to the man - the devil - who meant him harm and it hadn't mattered. He'd left him for dead anyway. What had doing as he was told ever done for him? What had being good done for any of them?

 _Decades have passed. How have any of us really changed?_

His eyes narrowed as he looked at the woman. Severus had cared for Cressida, in his way, he supposed, but what did that compare to how he felt for Narcissa, or how Lucius felt for her? Severus watched his friend, waiting for a curse that never came, and his thoughts drifted to justification.

 _Maybe I could take the burden from him? Perhaps I could bear to have my soul torn in two? It's not revenge,_ he told himself, _it's retribution. It's justice._

Severus had spent decades learning to curb this part of his personality – this more sinister aspect – his jealousy, his retaliatory nature, his need for vengeance. He'd kept it at bay by banishing it to the edges, but it lingered in the periphery like a cloud that threatened to descend and split open.

 _Lucius is not the only person in the room who loves Narcissa. He is not the only person who hates that awful bastard Tobin – I saw what he had done to her. Lucius is not the only person who could happily raise his wand to Cressida's pretty little temples and whisper the words I have only ever spoken once before,_

 _It's just,_ he thought, _it's right,_ as the grey cloud swept from the margins of his mind into the foreground. It shifted and distorted and expanded until it was all that there was – no clarity, no sense, just revenge.

 _Not revenge. Justice._

And just as he had the thought to reach for his wand – to end it right here, right now - he felt something at his hand that drew him out of his mind and back to the room. Skin on skin. Fingers, wrapped around his fingers and then circles of comfort on his palms. And just as quickly as it had descended, the grey cloud lifted, and he saw her face.

He wondered if there was something in his eyes that had betrayed his thoughts or if she had simply anticipated them. It was as though she knew exactly what it was that he needed, and she _was_ exactly what he needed. She brought him back to himself – she pulled him out of the Shrieking Shack, just as she had _really_ dragged him out of the damn place all those years ago. Hermione squeezed his hand once and looked at him, before taking her wand from her back pocket and taking a step forward.

It was the Gryffindor in her. He could see the Order of the damn Phoenix in her eyes as she stood in the home of the Death Eaters that had once threatened to kill her and she wouldn't stand back and let someone suffer the same fate. She had hurtled into their world and made herself at home, but she would not lose herself during her stay. Severus held his hand out in front of her to stop her, and she hung back. Instead, he moved forward, meeting Narcissa's gaze and nodding.

 _It's going to be okay,_ he thought, hoping that she might understand him, and believe it.

Severus stepped beside his friend and then slowly between the wand and the woman. Lucius did not say a word – his face was expressionless. Severus understood. He was becoming numb and unfeeling. It was the only way to rid yourself of your conscience long enough to commit the act. They had all done it under the leadership of the Dark Lord. It was how they coped in the moment and how they lived with the guilt in the aftermath.

"Lucius," Severus said, with all the stillness he could muster. "I know."

Lucius met Severus' eyes as he nodded.

"Believe me, I know."

:

 **H.**

Doing nothing while Lucius Malfoy had held a wand to a woman's face had been an experience so jarring, so completely in contrast to who she felt she was at her core, that she felt her hands begin to shake as Severus moved forward to approach Lucius. He was exactly what the situation needed, she knew – Lucius needed Severus' steady hand, not her hot-head and lion-heart. And so she had waited and trusted him to take control of the situation. Which might well have been the most difficult thing she had done all year. She could trust him no problem… but to wait? To stand there while Severus continued to do nothing? She had known he would act eventually, but he had cut it rather fine.

"Lucius, I know. Believe me, I know," Severus said. "But you don't want to hurt her."

 _He knows? What does he know?_ she thought but she forced herself to hold her tongue. Severus and Lucius seemed to lock eyes with one another and Severus' pressed lips curved into a sorry smile.

"That feeling you have won't go away until you back off."

"I can't Severus."

"You can," he said. "Do you trust me?"

Lucius nodded as though by instinct and Hermione felt her fingertips buzz with anticipation.

"Then drop your wand."

"I can't," he said again.

Hermione thought she saw a curl to his top lip.

"You don't want to hurt her," Severus said.

"Oh, I do."

"No. You don't. It's not worth it. _She_ is not worth it."

Lucius' eyes widened momentarily as though he had understood something and then narrowed, as he nodded in agreement.

"Okay," Lucius said.

Hermione felt as though she was missing half of the conversation. There was more to it, she was sure of it. There was something Severus wasn't saying – or rather, something he was saying that only Lucius understood. She felt herself recalling the trace of a memory from seven years ago. Severus was in her Father's armchair, throwing back glasses of whisky like apple juice. He told her more than he ever intended to. It was the first time that she had ever considered that there might be a romantic heart in Severus Snape's cold chest. Because just as he had an uncanny ability to say a lot, but tell very little, she was able to read into what wasn't said - every pause and every gesture. She read subtext like a book. But it seemed, Severus had _written_ the damn thing. He lived for inference; for hints and connotations. He'd done it as long as she'd known him. Even as her teacher, he had spoken in riddles; riddles that she had understood.

 _Talk of Professor Lupin in the moonlight springs to mind._

Oh, she had thought she was so damn clever, pulling hidden truths from Severus Snape that he had not meant to give away. But every word was a careful manipulation. He was clever and thoughtful. He spoke subtext. Always had.

 _He's doing it right now._

How foolish she had been to think that Severus would have ever revealed more than he intended. Which meant what? That he said exactly what he had meant to say? That she had offered him kindness and empathy he had closed all the doors in her face but cracked open a window? She knew him pretty well, she fancied, and still she found herself learning something new about him. Every time she felt like she was reaching the deepest most layers, she found that she was barely scratching the surface. Life would at least never be boring with him.

Lucius tucked his wand into his robes, and Cressida dropped to her knees. Hermione rushed to her as Jessica did the same. Cressida resisted Hermione's help. Even now she was stubborn, although perhaps she could forgive it under the circumstances. Hermione backed away from Cressida and as she looked over her shoulder, she saw Lucius' silver and green figure become enveloped by two other silvery figures as the Malfoys comforted each other. What had started as an awful day for Hermione, had ended as something so much worse for them, and it hardly concerned her in the end.

She caught Lucius' gaze, who winced apologetically and nodded, as Severus stepped towards them and it was clear that he belonged in their fold. Hermione and Jessica were outsiders in this grief, and yet, they were so uniquely involved with this family. Somehow, and Hermione could hardly believe it, but somehow this place and these people had become her temporary home and her interim family. She had Jessica to tether her to her old life, but she had the promise of a new and wonderful - albeit potentially insane - life with Severus. As well, she saw a glimmer of something she didn't quite understand with the Malfoys – but whatever it was felt permanent. Like they were all changed by their circumstance. Bonded by the experience. How odd it was that Hermione found herself here. And odder still she felt quite happy with her place in the world.

Severus came into view then, looking at her from narrowed eyes under his wrinkled forehead and furrowed brows.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She wondered if she had glazed over in her rumination as his face became even more concerned.

"Yes," she said. "I'm fine. Are _you_?"

There had been a moment before. She would be forgiven for thinking that there was a trace, a glitter perhaps, of darkness in Severus.

"Yes."

 _The truth,_ she decided, and she relaxed as Severus placed his hand on the small of her back.

"Is Lucius?" she asked.

Lucius sat in his armchair, his hands shaking as he tilted his glass of whisky to his lips.

"He will be. He's in shock, I would guess."

"Why?" Hermione asked, and wondered as she did if it was an odd or a stupid question.

If he thought it was either, he did not show it.

"Of course. You wouldn't know… I should explain…"

His black eyes softened and he gestured to the sofa behind them, with a nod of his head.

:

 **S.**

Severus sat back with an open body – one elbow on the arm of the sofa and the other extended to welcome Hermione. She kicked off her shoes, tucked her crossed-legs under her and patted a cushion in her lap. She sat sideways so that she could face him – not what he had anticipated – and he dropped his hand onto the cushion to take hers.

It was perhaps a little strange to see Hermione casual and dishevelled in Malfoy Manor, but she had a way of making herself at home wherever she was. It was as though she knew that she was not instantly likeable. That she was a little much for some people at first. That she sometimes needed time to grow on you. And so she might as well get comfortable for the stay.

Hermione's shoes thrown under the Malfoy's coffee table was not the strangest sight, however. What a picture they were. Draco was lounging on Narcissa's prized Persian rug, legs outstretched – resting his weight on one hand and sipping a glass of red wine with the other.

 _He's_ _quite used to this sort of madness, Severus_ supposed. _It's not the first time_

Draco looked the picture of gratification in stark contrast to Jessica, who was not quite as familiar with Malfoy madness. Her face was severe as she rubbed Cressida on her shoulders. She was, perhaps, the only person in the room who did not bear her ill-will. Even Hermione, straight-laced and honourable, seemed hardly able to look at her. Lucius puffed on a cigar, with Narcissa sat beside him on the arm of his chair, stroking his hair with her needling fingers. She whispered words of comfort. Perhaps she knew what to say.

 _Is there anything you can say?_

"Hermione, you know that there are many strange kinds of magic?"

She nodded, and then she said, "yes, go on," when he hadn't immediately continued.

She was eager to learn what it was she had not understood.

"Finally! I can teach the know-it-all something she doesn't already know," he said with a grin that he was pleased to find she mirrored.

"You were bound to find something eventually… Now, tell me… or I'll ask Lucius and deny you the pleasure."

He didn't want to find out if she was serious and so with a deep breath, he tried to find the words to explain darkness to pure sunshine.

"What you know about the Dark Arts is what you have learned in school and read in books," he said, "… or so I assume. You have no tangible experience with it… casting an unforgivable curse, for example?"

"No," she said, "not really."

"Well, at school you were taught that when you cast _Avada Kedavra,_ you have to mean it," he said. "But what we didn't teach you was that before you take someone's life, there's a moment of clarity and insight. It is a type of magic that we don't really understand, but it essentially reminds you that what you are about to do will tear your soul in two—"

"Yes," she said, "I read something about it, years ago… it's like the thing that muggles understand as a conscience…"

"That's right."

 _Why did I think I could teach you anything new?_

"So, you have to _mean it_. You have to be completely aware of the price you will pay and the toll it will take before you make your decision then make it anyway. For most witches and wizards, the act is not worth the price. It's why so few use it… even in a war. Because it changes you, to have even considered it. It's terrifying, Hermione… to know what you are capable of."

"You've felt it?"

"More times than I like to admit."

"Who? "Voldemort?" she asked, and then narrowed her eyes. "Oh… was it Harry?"

Severus felt a jolt of laughter that came as a surprise to everyone in the room. He shrunk into his shoulders and Hermione gave a smug little smile beside him. He moved towards her and kissed her forehead. He rested his lips just a moment, and then pulled back. She kissed him then, just once – her lips brushing his. They both knew that it was not the time and no matter how much it seemed like they were the only two people in the world, they were not even alone in the room. He caught sight of Cressida, who glared at him and he felt the faintest pang of guilt before, deciding _fuck it_ and pulling himself off the sofa.

"Do you want to step outside for a minute?" he asked. "We have some time. It's Lucius and Narcissa's house and Tobin is their demon even more so than he is mine. They will decide what to do with Cressida and since Lucius won't be doing anything until he has knocked back at least another two glasses, I thought we could get some air?"

He spoke more quietly as he said, "which is a terribly long-winded way of saying I want to get you out of this room so I can kiss you..."

She shot to her feet with such enthusiasm that he could not help but leak his laughter.

"Next time lead with that," she said as she grabbed his hand.

He had never been in more absurd a situation. Just moments ago he had been quite ready to rip his soul apart, and now he was quite at peace. How ridiculous it was that he had ever thought that being in love with Hermione put him in danger. It was his love for her that kept him alive. It pulled him out of the darkness time and time again. He owed her his life ten times over. There wasn't a thing in the world he could give her to repay the debt.

:

 **H.**

Sound filled the drawing room again, and so reluctantly, she and Severus joined everyone inside. The conversations seemed to be between Draco and Jessica, Jessica and Narcissa and Narcissa and Lucius – not one of them acknowledged Cressida, who was now at least sitting at the table instead of on the floor. She sipped at a glass of water and stared at the floor. Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She had looked as surprised, as horrified, as any of them that her father might be capable of such things.

"So… What now?" Hermione asked.

He let out an exasperated sigh and pulled himself tall.

"I think…" he said, and then turned to Lucius. "I have some questions for her, Luce. Don't you?"

Lucius swallowed and nodded, then dropped his glass to the table beside him.

"Yes. I can think of one or two."

Hermione's attention moved to Narcissa who had moved to the side of the room, as close to the doorway as she could linger without actually being outside.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't listen… I don't want to know…"

Lucius walked to where his wife stood, kissed the top of her head and pushed open the door to the patio.

"We've got this, Mum. It'll be alright," Draco said in a way that made him sound both a concerned child and a man in control.

He nodded and Jessica who followed Narcissa out onto the patio. Hermione watched Lucius cross the room to the dining table, pull out a chair and sit facing Cressida. Draco stood behind him, his hands behind him flat on the table as he leant back and Severus stood upright, his arms folded around his body.

"Did you know who I was when we met?"

"You know I didn't! I swear it!" she urged. "I just… I saw you at the pub and I liked what I saw…"

 _I don't want to listen to this either._

Hermione thought as she stepped backwards, and hoped that she would fade out of view. As she passed Lucius' velvet armchair, she caught sight of a bottle of Chardonnay, chilling in an ice bucket on top of the bar cart. She grabbed three large glasses from the sideboard, and then snatched the bottle. She stepped onto the patio, with raised eyebrows and the bottle outstretched. Jessica patted the seat next to her.

"Sit," she said, "and talk."

:

 **S.**

"I just don't believe you," Lucius said, sharply. "I don't trust you."

 _Lucius is playing bad cop. I suppose that makes me…_

He turned to Cressida, with what he hoped was a warm smile.

"He doesn't know you like I know you… so he doesn't have any reason to trust you. But I do. We just need to understand what happened… Could you tell us what you know?"

:

 **H.**

"Tell me when," Hermione said, as she tipped the bottle into Narcissa's glass.

Narcissa made a display of tightened her lips and Jessica chuckled as the glass reached capacity.

Hermione slid the glass across the table.

"I could get you a bucket…"

"That's an idea," she said, with a buzz of laughter that fell flat on Hermione's ears.

"Are you okay, Narcissa?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Really?"

"Really?" Narcissa repeated. "No. But I don't want to think about it. I don't want to talk about it. I definitely don't want to hear his _daughter_ talk about it."

"Did you know he had a daughter?" Jessica asked, so that Hermione didn't have to.

"No. She's what… early thirties? She must have been born around the time we broke up…"

Jessica pulled her chair closer to the table, so she could put her elbows on the glass and rest her head on her chin.

"He was unfaithful?"

"It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest."

Hermione sipped at her glass, glad that Jessica continued the conversation. It was a nice distraction from her own discomfort – superficial as it was in comparison.

"And you never saw him after that?" Jessica asked.

"Nope. He wrote to me as I told you… but no, I haven't seen him since. And to be quite honest, if I never see that man again it will be too soon. The last words I ever said to him were 'see you in hell', and I'll be damned if I see him any sooner."

She rapped her fingers across the glass and took a deep breath.

"You know… I don't know what I would have done without Bella. She took care of—"

Narcissa stopped, as her eyes flashed wide open and she looked guiltily at Hermione.

"I'm sorry," she said. "That was inconsiderate."

"It's fine."

Hermione took a moment to gather her thoughts. It was fine, she decided. Narcissa could hardly help who her sister was. And it was possible that Bellatrix was capable of kindness.

 _What was it that Sirius said? 'The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside us.'_

"Look. Not to put too fine a point on it," Hermione said, "but I hate her. I'm sorry if that upsets you. What she did to me… I'll never forgive her."

Narcissa blinked and then nodded.

"Of course…"

"But I understand that she's your sister. People can be two things. Just because she is the villain in my story, doesn't mean she can't be the hero of yours."

 _Just as the monster that threatened and terrified Narcissa could still be the man that tucked Cressida into bed at night and read her to sleep._

:

 **S.**

Lucius rested all his weight against one hand on the table and rested his other hand on his waist.

"Then tell me… How do you explain the inconsistencies in what you told Severus about yourself?!"

"Like what?"

"Like where you went to school."

"Beauxbatons," she said. "I told you that—"

"You said you were a Slytherin," Severus said. "You had the snake brooch…"

"You can't have attended both," Lucius added.

"Well actually— " Cressida said. "I technically _did_ attend both. I went to Hogwarts for a few weeks but my father pulled me out of classes without an explanation and I spent the rest of my education at Beauxbatons thereafter. And as for the brooch… I'm sorry, I _was_ sorted into Slytherin… I just wanted to impress you."

Lucius paced as he spoke, his arms folded behind his back.

"Okay," he said with a sharp intake of breath. "What about the Weasley kid? How did you find him?"

"He found me," Cressida said with a shrug.

She was becoming less frightened and more confident. Soon she would refuse to answer any more questions.

"And before you ask! I don't know how he found me… but he did. He said I should use it to keep an eye on Severus."

"But the map follows Hermione…" he said.

Her cheeks reddened, and she looked down to her feet.

"He said that you'd be with her… and he was right, wasn't he?"

"So… what? That makes it okay?" he snapped, forgetting himself for a moment.

Lucius stepped forwards then.

"Ignore Severus. Go on."

"He said that he'd been using it for months to keep an eye on… _her_ … and sometimes he'd follow her. He suggested I do the same."

 _Reason 394 to kill Ronald Weasley._

Lucius swung round to look at Severus.

"So it _was_ Weasley who followed her in London then? I can't wait to tell Jessica she was right. She will be pleased."

"Hermione won't be."

Lucius gave a half-smile.

"No, I suppose not."

:

 **H.**

Hermione sat on the patio chair with her feet up on the seat and one arm wrapped around her legs. Narcissa sat on the edge of hers with one leg slung gracefully across the other. Jessica leant back in her chair as though she hadn't a care in the world. She always had an incredible ability to keep her head and remain casual. It was something that Hermione greatly admired and envied terribly.

"I don't know how you're so calm," Narcissa said – it seemed she wasn't the only one who noticed.

When Jessica didn't answer, she realised that Narcissa was, in fact, talking to her.

"Me? Calm? Not in the slightest."

"You just seem so together… so collected. It must be difficult to be out here when Severus is in there with her."

Hermione's concern must have been written on her face as clear as day.

"Oh, no. You have absolutely nothing to worry about," Narcissa said. "Severus has his faults but he is loyal to a fault. And more to the point, he is yours unquestionably. I just meant that your relationship is relatively new but you seem so at ease with one another. It's like you understand each other."

Narcissa swilled the wine in her glass.

"Earlier, you saw it too, didn't you? The shadow on his face... he was thinking something dark. Then you took his hand, and in seconds, he's happy. I've never seen anything like it. You have a way with him. It's quite remarkable really."

:

 **S.**

"The owl, Severus!" Lucius said, sharply. "All the letters are from the same bird. His threats and her howler."

Lucius folded his arms as he turned to face Cressida and tapped his foot as if to say 'gotcha!'

"I saw Severus with… _her_ on the map and I was upset, so I went to see a friend hoping that she could cheer me up, but she'd just gotten engaged and so yeah…" she said, with a prickle in her voice. "I was upset."

"And your father didn't mention at any point that the man you were dating was someone he knew?"

"I didn't tell him about the relationship until it was over. I didn't think he'd approve given that there's a significant age difference and I didn't want to worry him until it was serious…"

Severus felt his stomach leap into his armpits.

"So you admit it wasn't serious!?" he said, unable to hide the relief on his face.

Her face was thunderous as she stared at him.

"Of course I knew you weren't serious about me!" Cressida sniped. "Did you ever once say or do or even _suggest_ anything to the contrary? Oh, I knew perfectly well that you didn't feel the same way as I did."

She stood up and kicked the chair behind her under the table. Her voice came harsh and deliberate.

"I might be a little crazy, maybe I'm fucking deluded… but I'm not stupid! I just hoped…"

She sighed and he recognised the regret in her eyes. Damn it, if he didn't have enough regrets of his own.

"I just hoped that you might grow to feel something for me…" she said, "and so when you ended things, I guess I didn't take it so well."

"Been there," Severus said, surprising himself.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I was out of order. But I don't have to stand here and take this, you know? And given that you're clearly not going to kill me… if you don't mind… I think I'll be going."

Lucius moved quickly to where she stood.

"You're right. I'm not going to kill you. I won't lay a finger on you. It's not _you_ I want."

"You really think I'm going to tell you where to find him?"

"No," she said, as Lucius pulled his wand again from his pocket. "I think you're going to take me to him."

:

 **H.**

Jessica picked up the wine glasses and Narcissa flicked her wand so that the empty bottle swept into the air and dropped into her hand. She dropped it into the bin, as Hermione held the patio doors open for them both. She followed in behind them and then jutted to a halt, when she realised that both Jessica and Narcissa had stopped dead in their tracks.

"What the hell?" Jessica said.

Hermione scanned the room but there was nobody to be seen.

"Lucius!?" Narcissa called.

Jessica rounded the corner to the kitchen and Hermione heard her calling Draco's name throughout the house. Hermione didn't move.

"They're not here?"

Hermione let out a derisive laugh as she realised how stupid she had been to leave them unattended in the first place.

"Remember what Severus said? 'You don't want to hurt _her?_ And ' _she's_ not worth it?"

"Oh fuck," Jessica said. "I'm going to kill you, Draco Malfoy."

"Not if I kill him first," Narcissa said.

:

 **S.**

Cressida reluctantly pointed to the house at the end of the street. As they approached they saw the little detached cottage with a thatched roof, illuminated in the light of a street lamp. It should have been quaint, but it wasn't. It was a decrepit-looking place, with crumbling walls and a faint stink of stagnant water, but the garden was well-tended to.

"Cressida. You stay here," Lucius said. "I only want to talk."

"Not a chance. I don't trust you."

Severus was unsure if she meant 'you', Lucius, or 'you', both of them, and he could hardly blame her. Lucius opened the gate and he and Cressida followed, but as he advanced up the path to the door, he stopped.

"Severus, you always think ten moves ahead," he said. "Tell me what your plan is."

"I don't have one."

 _Not strictly speaking true. My plan is to keep you alive and out of Azkaban._

"I followed you here", Severus said, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. "This is your game of chess. What is your strategy?"

Lucius smirked.

"You know I'm more of an act-first, think-later kind of man… I tend to make a move and deal with the consequences."

Severus clapped his hand again on Lucius' shoulder.

"Then I guess you'd better make a move then."

"… And if it's the wrong move?"

"Then we deal with the consequences," Severus said, with more confidence than he felt. "Just… err— try not get us killed, okay?"

Lucius nodded as he turned to Cressida, who, with a flick of her wand, unlocked the latch. Lucius took a deep breath, swallowed, then pushed open the door.

* * *

 **AN** : Thanks for being patient with me while I upload sporadically and thank you to everyone who has put up with me so far, haha! But never fear because we're almost at the end. One or two chapters left. I haven't decided whether to post two shorter chapters, or one long one. What do you think?

Hope you're having a great day! - K xxx


	23. Chapter 23

**AN:** Okay so, last time I said there would be one long chapter or two shorter chapters left to go. Well, I severely underestimated how much nonsense I had left to gift you. It's that time of year... you know... the time for the giving and receiving of disappointment and nonsense. Cheers!

Basically, there's still one more chapter to go after this one. This is stupid long! I'm so sorry! Thanks for being great.

 **CONTENT WARNING:** Domestic violence.  
It's mentioned as something that happened in the past. There are no details and it's not at all graphic. But I just wanted to give you the heads up.

* * *

23\. Stalemate

 **S.**

Severus' hand was tight around his wand, not knowing at all what to expect, but trying to anticipate it anyway. Draco had insisted that he went alone around the back of the house to flank from the other side. So Severus followed behind Lucius, who opened the door first, and Cressida, who stood between them so that she couldn't barge in or run off. He had wanted her to stay outside, really. For all Tobin's faults, he was her father, and she shouldn't have to see whatever it was that Lucius had planned for him. Fortunately for Cressida, and _unfortunately_ for them, Lucius' 'plan', _if you could call it a plan,_ had foolishly not accounted for the possibility that Tobin was expecting them.

"Oh God," Lucius whispered, as he stopped dead in his tracks.

"What?" Severus said, trying to see beyond Lucius and Cressida, to see what Lucius saw.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Cressida said, as she pushed her way past Lucius and into the room beyond.

The room, it turned out, was not the entrance hall that Cressida had described, but a kitchen. It was perhaps the hearth of the home, once upon a time, but now it was thick with dust and grime and sticky stains. There were rusty pots hanging from a rack in the centre of the room and underneath them, Severus saw what gave Lucius pause. Tobin, tall and cloaked – this time without his hood, or his mask, with his arm around Draco's neck, his wand to his temple.

"Stay where you are," Tobin said, with a composure that he had no right exuding with his wand to someone's head.

Draco's hands clutched at the arms wrapped around his throat, as he tried to create space to breathe; his wand was in two pieces on the floor.

"How did you—?" was all that Lucius said before he looked to Cressida who shrugged apologetically. "Right, I should have known."

 _I should have known too._

Cressida's face blanched as she watched her father wrap his arm tighter around Draco's neck.

 _How could I have been so naïve as to believe her?_

"If you expected us here, then we are guests in your home," Severus said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "You could have at least put the kettle on."

"Oh, piss off! This isn't my home," Tobin snapped. "Not anymore anyway. Nobody's lived here for over a decade. Not since my parents died. But it's still my property… so the gate is, let us say, 'alarmed'. That's how I knew you were here."

"Very clever," Severus conceded.

"I told her told Cressida to come here…" Tobin jerked his head towards his daughter. He was demonstrably displeased with her. "But that was _yesterday_. Took you long enough to get them here."

"I'm sorry," she muttered.

"… Well. I assumed you'd show up eventually. You usually do, whether or not I want you here." He looked out of the window then, his mouth upturned and displeased.

"You didn't bring everyone though, did you?" he asked.

"I tried," she protested meekly. "I'm sure they'll figure out they're missing soon enough…"

He scoffed.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I did my best."

"Well it wasn't good enough," Tobin said with a curl of his lip that became more evident as he looked at Snape. "Now. Drop your wands."

"Okay," Lucius said, but he did not lower his wand.

"Both of you," Tobin said.

"Let's just talk."

"Not a chance!" Tobin glanced again at Severus; his eyes filled with hatred so boiling that it rivalled the vitriolic blood red of the Dark Lord himself. "Perhaps you think I will stand here like a damn villain, rambling and ruminating – telling you my deepest, darkest secrets, just long enough that you can overpower me? I am not a stupid man. You cannot be trusted, Lucius. Look at the company you keep."

that they stood in Tobin's kitchen, Severus couldn't quite believe that he had agreed to follow Lucius here. Of course he didn't have a plan – _he never has a plan_ – but he had decided that if Lucius was going to act the imbecile, then at least he could be there to watch his back.

' _We're just going to talk to him', Lucius said, 'just talk'._

 _Well that worked out well, didn't it?_

 _Narcissa's going to kill me._

"It's a pity you let your son go around the front though, Lucius," Tobin said, smugly. "He walked straight into my arms."

"That was her idea," Lucius said, jutting his chin towards Cressida. "She told us _this_ was the front entrance. Foolish as I am, I believed her."

Tobin looked at his daughter properly for the first time.

"Good girl."

Severus didn't like the way Tobin looked at her. There was no kindness or pride in his eyes, only possessiveness. Neither did he like the way _she_ looked back at him. Desperate for his approval, and pathetically grateful to receive even a modicum.

"Now! I thought I told you already," Tobin said, twisting the wand taut to Draco's skin. "Drop your wands."

"Fine," Lucius said, and Severus felt his stomach drop to his boots as Lucius did as he was bid.

"Luce! No! What are you doing?! Pick up your fucking wand!"

:

 **H.**

As Narcissa lay her hand on top of the gate, Hermione saw the tremor in her fingers, indicative that the woman who was usually so still and serene, was wracked with nerves. Hermione reached out her hand and grabbed at the soft, long fingers that clutched back. As she did, her little purple, beaded bag dropped from her shoulder and hit the gravel beneath her feet.

"Are you okay?" she asked, pulling the handbag back into position.

Narcissa had stopped just at the end of the road in front of an old, dilapidated cottage. It had ivy growing thick around the crumbling brick. Normally, this would beautify the house underneath, but the overgrowth only served to make the place look unloved – uninviting. It would have appeared completely abandoned if it wasn't for the hum of yellow light in a downstairs window. There was a blind, or perhaps curtains drawn, but there was the definite movement of shadows beyond the glass.

Narcissa looked back at Hermione and tightened her grip on her hand.

"I never thought I'd come back here," she said, softly. "I thought I'd never have to see him again."

Hermione ran her thumb across the back of Narcissa's hand.

"He always loved to garden," she said, her eyes fixed on the neatly tended yard. "It was the only thing that ever seemed to make him happy."

"Narcissa," Hermione said. "You don't have to go in."

Hermione could all but taste the memory of walking into Malfoy Manor for the first time after what Bellatrix had done to her. She did not have to imagine too hard to understand what Narcissa might be thinking as she prepared to undertake a similar task.

"Narcissa," Hermione said again, each time, becoming more familiar with using her name – repeating it until it felt friendly in her mouth. "You don't have to do this. I understand—"

"I know you do," she said warmly, "and I thank you, but I'll be okay." She straightened her shoulders. "My boys need me."

She pushed open the gate that groaned on its hinges, and it buckled as it caught on the grass. Again she lingered on the pathway, holding the gate, as though unable to commit to entering the property, but not willing to leave either.

"I'm frightened," Narcissa said.

Hermione smiled, her lips pressed tightly together, but she hoped that she could impress that she understood, and that she cared, and that no matter what happened—

"I'm right behind you."

Narcissa gave a solemn nod, and with courage to rival any Gryffindor, she stepped through the gate.

:

 **S.**

Lucius' face flashed with both fear and anger in cyclic succession.

"I can't risk his life, Severus! Do you think Narcissa would ever forgive me if I did? After everything we've been through…"

The sound of Narcissa's name on Lucius' tongue elicited a response from Tobin, but Severus couldn't quite pinpoint what that emotion on his face was. Anger? Guilt? Revulsion? Excitement? He was unreadable.

"Don't do that," Lucius said irritably, as he too, noticed the look on his face. "Don't you think about her."

"But I always think about her—"

"I won't be dropping my wand," Severus said, drawing talk away from Narcissa, as he turned to look at Tobin – really look at him, then raised his wand and pointed it at Tobin's chest. "Do you want to bet that you can kill Draco quicker than I can kill you?"

Severus fancied he could actually see the man's jaw clench.

"And if you do kill him…" Severus continued, "…What leverage would you have to beg for your life?"

"Fuck you," he spat.

"Okay, have it your way," Severus said, and moved his wand and aimed at Cressida. "Sorry, love."

"What? No. Severus?"

Her voice came as a plea, as though she thought she could tug on his heartstrings. As if there were any strings there left to tug.

"I don't see that I'm left with much of a choice."

He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all and instead raised an eyebrow as he sized Tobin up. He didn't flinch. Even with a wand pointed at his daughter, Tobin did not blink. Compare that to Lucius who had dropped his wand to the floor and held his hands up in surrender. That was a father - a stupid father - but a desperate father, who loved their child and would do anything to keep them alive.

Tobin showed not a trace of fear or anxiety or even discomfort for the safety of his child. And this was a man who hated Severus – who thought less of him than the shit he shovelled to fertilise his tomatoes – and he didn't so much as twitch.

 _His poker face,_ Severus hoped as he looked back at Cressida. Her head was bowed to the floor, as if with shame, and her fingers pulled erratically at the fabric of her dress. Something wasn't right.

"I'm sorry," Cressida said.

' _Sorry' again. She's always bloody sorry._

"Don't apologise to him," Tobin snapped at her. "God, you're pathetic."

Cressida's eyes flicked up to her father and then she shrunk into herself.

"You're right," she said. "Sorry."

The look on Cressida's face – the way that she played with the fabric of her clothes – the way she hardly dared to make eye contact with her father. This relationship was so familiar to him. The echo of a memory from decades ago. Young Severus counting the bottles his father drank. Young Severus climbing into his wardrobe, closing the doors behind him, and hoping that if he could just make himself small enough or quiet enough, nobody would hurt him tonight.

Then another flash. Young Severus sat in the dark of his bedroom, his books illuminated by the light of his wand; his nose pressed almost flat to the pages, hoping that he could learn enough useless trivia that just once he might impress his father.

His father's response, every time, one of anger or disappointment. _"Tell me, Son, do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?"_ The last words spoken before his father struck him around the face for the first time.

It would not be the last.

 _Oh shit._

"Cressida, you should go," Severus told her, moving his wand back to Tobin, but fixing his gaze on her.

"What? Why?"

"You could get hurt."

She looked at him with her sad eyes, big with long lashes, like a damn cow rescued from a slaughterhouse. She looked as though this was the first time in the world anyone had shown her kindness, which he refused to believe was true because he was still _so fucking angry with her for bringing them here._

And yet, he knew it could well be true. Even _he_ had failed to be good to her.

"I'm asking you to go," he said again. "Please."

Cressida took one single, hesitant step forward and her father sighed.

"Of course," he said. "Do what _he_ tells you. Go on. Go! You're no use to me anyway."

Cressida let out a deep breath and nodded, as she crossed the kitchen and pulled open the door.

"Yeah! Fuck off! Go!" Tobin screeched after her, and he released his arm from around Draco's neck and his body dropped to the floor with a thud. He kept his wand on Draco, but he was at least free. Lucius rushed to him, and under the guise of tending to his son, Severus saw that he snatched up his wand and stashed it up his sleeve.

 _Oh God,_ he thought. _I love my friend. But the only thing worse than Lucius without a plan, is Lucius with a plan._

:

 **H.**

As Narcissa stepped forwards, Jessica's voice came sharp and alarming, even as a whisper.

"Wait! Look."

Jessica's finger was pointed to a figure through the glass of the door – a shadow, vaguely human in shape.

The door opened and the shadow stepped through the door. The second that the latch closed behind them, the shadow rested its hands flat on the wall and began to take deep, desperate breaths.

"Cressida?" Hermione asked.

The shadow snapped upright and pulled itself into the light.

"What the hell is going on?" Jess asked her. "Where are they? Where's Draco?"

Cressida didn't answer, and at once, Hermione was aware of her heartbeat, furious in her chest.

"Are they okay?"

"I'm sorry," Cressida said with a heavy sob. "Oh God, I'm so sorry."

Hermione felt her hands wrap themselves into fists, but it was Narcissa that moved first, unintentionally blocking her path.

"It's okay. Do you have a wand?" Narcissa asked, confusing them all.

"What?" Cressida said. "Why?"

"I need to borrow a wand. I forgot to pick mine up."

Cressida handed over her wand without question. Narcissa held it up so that she could get a good look at it, placed her hands on either end of the wand, and with a jerk of her fists, she snapped it in two. Cressida made a small, pathetic gasp before her eyes glistened with the onset tears, but to Hermione's surprise, she did not complain and she did not cry.

"I'm sorry, we obviously can't trust you," Narcissa said, shoving the broken pieces into Cressida's hands and pulling her own wand from the silver bun on the back of her head, that unfolded into a curtain of pin-straight hair. "It doesn't surprise me. I got a weird vibe from you."

Cressida appeared rather crestfallen, as she asked, "what do you mean?"

"You're too much", Narcissa said. "Too intense."

"We met once—"

"Exactly. So you were hardly subtle. And God! What I've heard from Severus… Cycling between desperately clingy and annoyingly passive – I've never heard of anyone so passive. It's not genuine, I don't like it."

Hermione felt the tug of a smile in the corners of her mouth, and she bit her lower lip to conceal her amusement. Her pleasure was short-lived, however, replaced by curiosity and, truth be told, a prick of fear, as Narcissa stopped in her tracks.

"It's _not_ genuine… is it?" Narcissa asked, with a look on her face that put it to Hermione that she had understood something that she had missed. "It's a defence mechanism."

"I don't know what you mean—" Cressida started, but Narcissa held up a finger to quieten her, and Cressida flinched as the hand came close to her face.

The look on Narcissa's face was a new one. Somewhere between pity and understanding.

"Yes, you do," she said. "Of course you do."

Cressida's shoulders tensed as she wrapped one arm around her front, running her fingers across her elbow – "I just did as I was told."

"I know," Narcissa said.

"I just wanted to make him happy."

 _Who is this 'him'? Severus? Lucius?_

"I can never please him," Cressida said. "Nothing I do is ever good enough."

 _Her father,_ she assumed.

Jessica spoke up before Hermione, echoing her sentiments exactly.

"If everyone could stop using pronouns and start using _names_ , that'd be excellent," she said with a snarky little snip to her words. "Just _who_ are we talking about?"

"Her father," Narcissa confirmed.

Cressida sucked in a sharp inhale in response. She wasn't just sad, Hermione realised. She was angry too.

"I wasn't lying about Severus… I really didn't know who he was. But my father asked me to—"

"What does it matter?" Narcissa hissed. "What's done is done."

"If you want to go in, I won't stand in your way," Cressida said, but Hermione wasn't sure that she believed her.

"Believe me," Narcissa said. "I absolutely do _not_ want to go in."

"What if you didn't have to," Hermione said, finalising a plan that she'd been considering since they arrived.

She pulled her beaded handbag off her shoulder and bundled it into Jessica's arms. She ran her hand quickly around the bottom, pushing aside books and fumbling around the c linking glass bottles until she found what she was looking for. Hermione wrinkled her nose as she felt the familiar cork stopper with the laminated label on top.

She turned to Cressida.

"You're not allergic to boomslang skin, are you?"

:

 **S.**

"It's none of your business how I treat my daughter—"

 _Oh, I should have seen this. It's so obvious._

"Exactly! Your _daughter_ ," Severus said, hardly able to disguise his disgust. "Don't you care about her at —"

"Don't judge me, Snape! You have hardly a leg to stand on. You humiliated me! Why? Because I laughed at you."

"I'm not the same person I was—" Severus began, before he was interrupted by a clock striking the hour from another room further into the house."

There was a twitch of a smile on Tobin's lips that made Severus feel uneasy.

"Oh, you've changed?" he asked, his gaze moving past Severus as though he was looking straight through him. Severus almost looked behind him. _Almost_. "Oh, well. I've been mistaken. Off you go then."

He brought his eyes back to Severus and dropped his hand so that his wand was on no longer pointed at Draco, and Severus could almost physically feel the relief flooding from Lucius beside him.

 _What? What is happening here? Why is he backing off?_

"I'm no master duellist. I know I don't stand a chance against _Severus Snape..._ "

 _I don't trust it._

Severus felt his stomach gather itself together and plait itself into knots, because then Tobin smiled. It was a ghastly, proud smile.

"I give up," he said, raising his hands to surrender. "We all know I won't win here. I assumed you'd kill me eventually after our little skirmish in London."

And again he looked through Severus… past him… as though he didn't see him. As though he saw someone else.

"But you see, I never thought I _could_ win…" Tobin smirked.

Severus could hardly reconcile the man who stood before them, with the man who had followed him and Hermione through the streets of London. That man had leaked his anxiety; his voice had shaken and his hands had trembled. _This_ man was cool and calm. This was not a man who had swiped a map and acted on impulse. This was a man who had formulated a plan. And Severus feared, above all else, that the smile on his lips told him that he was a man whose plan was panning out exactly as he had hoped.

"I never even tried to win, did I?" Tobin said. "I stood here, talking to you, _like a damn villain."_

His eyes flickered behind Severus and then back as the grin spread wider on his face. As Severus began to understand what Tobin was saying, he felt the familiar ache of foreboding in his stomach.

"I was just waiting for you to overpower me. To kill me. But you didn't…" he said. "I can't believe it. Perhaps you have changed after all. That wasn't a part of my plan."

"Well, what _was_ your plan?" Draco asked, as he raised his hand for his father to pull him to his feet. "Why did you threaten to kill me if you didn't intend to?"

"Ha!" Tobin spat. "I was waiting. I was _stalling_."

Severus heard and felt, rather than saw, the women behind him. This time he did not turn his back on Tobin. He'd learned his lesson.

"Just in time," Tobin said. "And as for threatening to kill you… I did no such thing. I would never hurt _you_."

With a flick of Hermione's wrist – he could tell it was Hermione, because of the waft of her floral perfume - the wand surged out of the man's hand, but he did not seem at all startled, or put out by his disarming.

"Hello, gorgeous," Tobin said, narrowing his beady eyes at Narcissa, with a dirty little smile on his cracked lips. "Long time, no see."

Narcissa rolled her head on her neck and took a deep breath as she said, "Toby."

"I didn't lay a finger on your boy, I promise."

"He does appear to be in one piece," she said.

Tobin pulled himself to full height, towering over everyone in the room. He squared his shoulders. His frame was muscular and large. Even Severus felt himself shrink an inch in his shadow.

"Here I was believing that thirty years had passed, and yet, look at you…" Tobin said. "It hardly seems possible."

"Don't talk to her," Lucius snipped. "And don't look at her like that either."

Tobin rolled his eyes as he turned to face Lucius.

"Or what?"

Lucius pulled his wand from his sleeve like a community hall magician and said, "let's hope you don't find out."

Tobin let out a puff of mirth as he said, "oh, please."

Lucius puffed up his chest, the peacock proud and on display, but Narcissa shook her hand as she snatched Lucius' wand clean from his hand. There was something in the way she moved that concerned him. She was uncertain – frightened, he assumed. Her typical grace – her ease – was nowhere to be seen.

"No," Narcissa said, her voice flat and disinterested. "We're not doing it this way. Tell me what you want… _Toby_."

Severus wondered if Tobin could hear the discomfort laced in Narcissa's voice too, or if it was only they who knew her now, that heard it. If Tobin did hear it, he did not let on. He just watched Narcissa greedily as she walked cautiously towards him. She looked unsteady on her feet as she hitched up her dress so that she could shuffle across the room towards him, as though she'd about forgotten how to use her bloody legs.

"Let me help you get what you want."

"You know what I want," Tobin said. "It's what I've always wanted… _You,_ Narcissa… back where you belong."

Narcissa looked put out by this, but not so much as Lucius.

"I wish you'd shut your fucking mouth—"

"Lou!" Narcissa warned. "Please. Behave yourself."

She spoke like she was his disappointed mother, as he was her wayward child. It did not go unnoticed by Tobin, who seemed to revel in it.

"What did you say?" Lucius asked, staring in disbelief at his wife.

"I'm so sorry," Narcissa said, turning to Tobin, cutting over Lucius, with a voice that was more pathetic than ever she had heard it.

 _Wait,_ Severus thought, realising what it was that felt wrong. He shared a look with Lucius whose face read the same fear and realisation.

 _Lou._

 _I've never heard her call him 'Lou' in all the time I've known them._

Severus could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his chest, in his fingers… in his fucking toes.

 _That's not Narcissa._

:

 **H.**

The look on Severus' face told her that he'd figured out what was wrong. Hermione stepped towards Severus and hooked her fingers through his. It would be so easy to lose their cool, right now - so easy to snap – she needed to keep him grounded, just as the weight of his hand in hers kept her tethered to the ground.

Severus' eyes were wide as he surveyed her. Hermione let her calmness wash over her face, desperately trying to communicate that it was all okay. Everything was going to plan. Her fear that Tobin might notice their exchange was unfounded. He only had eyes for Narcissa. And so she dared to reach her free hand into her pocket, pull out the cork stopper and slide it into Severus' hand. He nodded his understanding without even looking at it and waited until Tobin's back was turned to pass it to Lucius. Lucius looked no less frightened, but at least somewhat more informed, as he read the label that Hermione had stuck on with her label-maker, months ago as she had shoved the vials of Polyjuice into her bag ' _just in case',_ because _'you never know.'._

"If you loved me. Why did you hurt me?"

"I'm so sorry for that, Narcissa, my love," Tobin said, and he almost sounded as though he meant it, but then undermined himself instantly. "You know it wasn't as simple as that, though. Don't deny it. We had a passionate relationship," he reasoned. "We pissed each other off from time to time, but that was just because there was so much love there; so much desire and excitement!"

He became animated as he spoke, using his arms as though words alone were too small to express the enormity of his feelings. Hermione's stomach flipped as she watched this man talk about a woman he had all but destroyed as though they'd had the romance of the century.

"Sometimes our obsession looked like anger," he said. "I couldn't hold it in, it came bursting out of me! You just made me so damn furious- thinking about you with him."

"Nothing happened between us until you were out of the picture, you miserable son of a bitch."

Tobin's shifted his stare towards Severus, but Hermione's eyes fell on Cressida, who looked as disgusted with him as she was uncomfortable.

"You loved me all this time?" she asked, swiftly. "You didn't move on."

"I was married," he said plainly, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms. "It wasn't like it was with you, though. There was no fire!"

Hermione felt her stomach flip over with unease a second time.

"So, you didn't love her?" Cressida asked, her imitation of Narcissa slipping to reveal the sadness of a child to everyone but Tobin who remained oblivious.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, with a grin.

"No, I—"

"Don't worry. It was always you. I am yours and you are mine, remember?"

Cressida nodded in spite of herself and pulled out a chair from under the table. It was so thick with dust that Hermione fancied writing her name in it with her finger.

"May I?" Cressida asked and took her seat without answering.

She smoothed over the unfamiliar dress and she cleared her throat.

:

 **S.**

"So… your wife—" Cressida began, but Tobin did not let her continue.

Narcissa had told him that this was how it had begun, Severus remembered. He hardly let her finish a sentence before anticipating what she might say and having a conversation by himself – filling in the blanks of her part. It was as though she wasn't there. It had made her feel invisible. It was strange to see it unfold again in front of his eyes.

"My wife was a good homemaker," he said. "She was a good mother, too, even if she did spoil the girl. But I've told you. There's no need to worry. There was no spark! No passion!"

"Then why did you hit her!?" Cressida snapped, seeming to forget that she was playing Narcissa now. "If there was no passion, I mean," she said, running her fingers through her unfamiliar silver hair, as she tried to recover. "… I thought that was …" She swallowed. "I thought that was _our_ thing."

"How did you know I was… that I did… that to my wife?" he asked.

"Cressida told me," she said, quickly.

 _She's brave,_ Severus thought. _And smarter than I gave her credit for._

It surprised him how much looking like Narcissa had endeared him to Cressida. He couldn't tell if that spoke to how much he loved Narcissa, or how much he didn't really dislike Cressida, as much as he had refused to admit it to anyone.

"Can't say I'm surprised. Always whining, that one."

Cressida's bottom lip protruded a little for just a moment before she sucked it back in.

"Let's just say that her mother and I had a complicated relationship. Perhaps we should talk alone," Tobin said, pulling out the chair beside Cressida. "There's so much I want to say to you. So much to explain."

"Over my dead body," Severus quipped, and folded his arms with finality, making sure to show Tobin that his wand was still firmly in his hands.

"Fine. I have no qualms about expressing my affection publicly. I think we could be happy together. Really happy."

"I find that difficult to believe given our history—"

"Oh, can't we just forget everything that's happened in the past and move on?" he asked.

"I will never forget what you did to me," she said emphatically. "How could anyone just forget that?"

Severus caught sight of something dark behind Tobin's eyes. A flicker that betrayed a thrill, matched by the twitch on his lips.

"Anyone can forget anything if you try hard enough," Tobin said.

"Is that what your wife did?" Cressida asked. "Did she just _forget_ and move on?"

"Oh, she forgot," he said, darkly. "I made sure of it."

Severus wondered if everyone else in the room heard the thud of his heart quicken as he put the pieces together. Cressida got there a moment faster than he did, and she shot up, kicking the chair out from behind her.

"YOU _OBLIVIATED_ HER?!" she screeched.

Tobin too stood to his feet. The chair squawked across the tile as he pushed it back with his calves and lay his hands flat on the table.

"Of course! I learnt my lesson, Narcissa."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean that I learnt my lesson, you stupid bitch," he said, slamming his fists down on to the table so that the dust gathered in a cloud. "You left me for _him_. You left me because you _weren't happy_ ," he said, mocking her, wrapping his fingers in air quotes around the words. "So I kept the next one happy."

"'THE NEXT ONE?!' SHE WAS YOUR WIFE! THE MOTHER OF YOUR CHILD!"

"Yes!" he roared. " _My_ wife. As in none of _your_ business."

"What is the matter with you?" Cressida said, her fingers locked like claws, fingertips pressed on the table. "She was sick!"

"So what?! What does that have to do with anything?"

"So, she always acted as if nothing happened," Cressida said, her livid breath quick and heavy. "Even when she was dying, and she had no energy to even talk… I couldn't understand why she kept lying for you. But she wasn't lying, was she? You made her forget! Over and over!"

Hermione's hand fell into Severus' and he latched his fingers through.

 _Oh shit,_ he thought. _Here it comes._ _It's all about to come out._

And it did.

"She was covered in fucking bruises! She kept saying it was the nurses. Complained that they were heavy-handed. She really believed it!"

"What—"

"You just couldn't leave her alone? Even when she was sick?! Did it make you feel like a man?!"

"What are you talking about?" he said, frightened for the first time.

 _There's the man that stood in front of me in London._

"Who told you all of this? Where is Cressida?"

"Oh, now you remember you have a daughter?! If you hadn't been so possessive and so thoroughly obsessed with Narcissa, you might have realised—"

"What the hell is going on!? You're not Narcissa?"

"No, I'm not fucking Narcissa!" she screeched.

Tobin made a dive for his wand, where it lay on the floor, but he wasn't quick enough. Cressida reached it first. Her foot, Narcissa's foot, trapping it beneath her.

"Back off!" she snapped.

Tobin's face was white and suddenly slick, and he seemed to have aged ten years just standing in front of her, as he held his hands up and stepped backwards. Cressida grabbed the wand and curled her hand around it so tightly that her knuckles protruded from her fists like daggers.

"Where is my daughter?"

"I'm right here! I've always been right here! Just like Mum was. And you ruined her!"

"Cressida?" he asked, scratching his head as though this was all too much for him.

"Who else?"

Tobin's fear shifted from his face and instead there was confusion.

"Why do you look like Narcissa?"

"It was Hermione's idea."

 _That's my girl,_ he thought, as he glanced over at Hermione, hoping he could impress without words how proud he was of her. Then he looked back to Cressida, who it seemed, was also looking at Hermione with what he could be mistaken for thinking was almost a smile. It was the first time she'd looked at her without pointing an irritated finger. And she'd said her name. He could hardly believe it. She had said Hermione's name for the first time, Severus realised. Or it was at least, the first time she'd said it without retching.

"Do you really believe that Narcissa would walk into this house after what you did to her?" Cressida asked, accidentally gesturing to where Narcissa and Jessica hid waited at the front of the house.

Tobin shook his head with disappointment.

"So you're on their side?" he yelled, and he began to move into the hallway. "You don't even know them, and you'd choose them over your own father? Jesus Christ! What did he do to make you such a fool?" Tobin yelled, gesturing at Severus with a look on his face like he smelled something foul. "It's can't be his _charming_ personality… it's _clearly_ not his face."

 _Clearly,_ Severus thought.

"So what?" Tobin asked. "Does his dick do something that other dicks don't? Is that what it is?"

She grabbed hold of him, pulling him to face her.

"What is wrong with you?! You're disgusting! I am your daughter!"

"Oh, fuck you! You betrayed me. You chose _Snivellus_ over me. You are no daughter of mine!"

Tobin raised his hand, and Lucius grabbed it from behind before he bore down on Cressida. Lucius held his arm until he stopped struggling and then let it go.

"Thank you," she said, with a mournful laugh. "You have freed me of the burden of trying to be the kind of daughter you could love."

She shook her head, and again she said, "thank you." And as Cressida looked at her father, her face changed completely, and she regarded him for the first time, not with fear, or hope, or longing… but with hatred. Pure, unmistakable hatred.

Severus wondered if he knew even before she did what she would do next. He didn't try to stop her. As her hand drew level with her father's head, her wand was perfectly still. There was a moment, just a fraction of a second, in which Tobin seemed to recognise the look in his daughter's eyes. Severus hoped that he had realised what was happening in time for him to feel sorry, even though he knew that a man like Tobin Rogers was likely incapable of remorse.

"Obliviate," Cressida said, calmly. "And fuck you."

* * *

Severus looked at Hermione properly for the first time all evening and felt a rush of warmth as she moved towards him. Her eyes were flecked with gold in this light, he noticed, and not for the first time he wondered how it had come to be that someone as wonderful as she, had settled for a man like him. She wrapped her arms around him and he kissed the top of her head. She let out a breath that sounded like relieved laughter as he pulled her in more closely, grateful that she was alive, and safe, and well, and so, so fucking clever.

"You're incredible," he said, running his hands through her hair, getting a finger caught on one of the knots of her curls. He chuckled to himself and felt a second wash of happiness to see Narcissa, the real Narcissa, rush into the kitchen and fall into the arms of her husband, as she grabbed her son and pulled him into the embrace. Jess followed not far behind, throwing herself at Draco, peppering his blonde head with delicate kisses between curses at his recklessness.

Severus looked back at Hermione and followed her sad eyes to where Cressida sat, still and silent, staring at the wall, completely in shock.

:

 **H.**

"Oh God," Severus groaned. "She's going to be your next project isn't she…"

"No fear," Hermione said. "I'm sure she'd resist it, given that she hates me."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I'm surprised you would let a little thing like resistance slow you down. And as for hatred… if I recall correctly…"

The way that he said 'if I recall correctly,' suggested that he recalled perfectly well.

"… the House Elves hated you, did they not?"

Hermione grimaced.

 _Did they hate me?_

"The Headmaster received dozens of complaints about your so-called Elf Liberation project…"

Severus smirked in the way that he did that told her that he was teasing her. Unfortunately for Severus, she was _not!_ to be teased about S.P.E.W. Not a single person had taken her seriously… nor a single elf.

"It was not 'so-called' anything of the sort," Hermione said, with a little snip to her voice that she immediately regretted.

"No, you called it S.P.E.W," he said.

"What did you say?"

There was a definite note of humour in his tone that suggested that perhaps he thought she was, and always had been, a little mad, but she hardly cared because…

"Severus, what did you call it?"

"S.P.E.W," he said, enunciating each letter, and narrowing his eyes. "Why? Is that wrong?"

She could have kissed him. She could have thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him. S.P.E.W, he'd said. Not SPEW.

"… Hermione?"

:

 **S.**

She was staring at him like he'd grown another head, and the other head was speaking a language she didn't understand.

"Sorry," she said, eventually. "I know you're making fun of me… but—"

"Oh, sorry," he said quickly, upset to have offended her. "No, you're right. I shouldn't make fun… It was a noble cause even if it was—"

"Ultimately unwanted and rejected?" she offered. "Yeah, I know. Now listen!"

 _Scolded. Again._

 _He couldn't pretend he disliked it._

He coughed lightly, an excuse to cover his mouth with his fist as he smiled.

"I was just surprised that you didn't call it _SPEW."_

She spat the word 'SPEW' from her mouth like it tasted funny. Apt given the definition.

"Harry and Ron tore into me for weeks about it. Ron still ridiculed me about it for years afterwards. Even when he knew that it bothered me. It's not like I don't have a sense of humour or anything and I know I sometimes take life a little too seriously —"

 _Reason 395 to kill Ronald Weasley._

"What should you take seriously, if not your life?" he said. "More so, you don't have to laugh at yourself all the time. I, for one, have never laughed at myself in my entire life."

She looked at him with a question in her eyes and he smiled at her to indicate that, no, he was not wholly serious.

"You're laughing at yourself right now!" she argued.

"Right, but you do recall me at Hogwarts? Buttoned up so to my nostrils so tight I could hardly fucking breathe…"

Hermione slipped her hand into his and squeezed it.

"Anyway," he said, "let us not dwell on the past."

"Well… that's a little difficult given that your past is literally sitting ten feet away from us."

He looked at the woman - "Ah," he said. "Right."

"You should go to her," Hermione said. "I think she needs you."

:

 **H.**

Hermione watched Severus pull out the chair beside Cressida and push it so that it was so close to her it was almost touching. She looked at him then, for the first time her eyes seemed to focus on what was in front of her, and she sunk into herself as he wrapped his arms around her, her whole body racking with sobs.

The sight was a little strange, Hermione decided, but it didn't bother her, per se. She wasn't jealous or insecure. It was strange because just an hour ago she would have happily spent hundreds of pounds on driving lessons so that she could run that bitch over with a car. Yet now, all of that anger was gone. As she passed them, Hermione placed her hand on Cressida's shoulder, and was pleasantly surprised to feel Cressida's hand on top of hers. An apology and a thank you. Narcissa grabbed Hermione then, and pulled her into an embrace so tight that she couldn't quite take a full breath but she laughed anyway as her face squashed into Narcissa's breasts.

"You," she said, kissing the top of her head. "Are amazing!"

Hermione decided to grin and bear grateful hugs from all the Malfoys, including Draco, who it seemed had finally warmed to her at the last minute. Narcissa moved towards Cressida next, and Hermione took the opportunity to grab Jessica's hand and pull her into the living room where Severus had left a very child-like, very confused Tobin Rogers.

"One of us should contact someone at the Ministry…" Jessica said.

"Not it!" Hermione said promptly, pressing her finger to her nose, followed a fraction of a second later by Jess yelling, "Not it! Damn!"

Hermione folded her arms and sucked her cheek playfully.

"Ahh! Go on. Get going."

"I wasn't even here when it happened," Jess said, eyeing Hermione as though she might change her mind, and then rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Do I have to?"

Jessica slumped dramatically onto the sofa and grimaced at the dust that the motion kicked up. This attracted the attention of the very child-like, very confused Tobin Rogers for the first time. Until then, he had been contentedly writing his name in the thick layer of dust in the glass coffee table.

"Hello," Tobin said. "I don't know where I am."

"Good," Jess said, dismissively.

"Where am I?", he asked as he looked around the room, and then down at himself. He studied his hands for longer than could possibly have been necessary and then looked up at them. "I'm old?" His eyebrows furrowed so deeply, his confusion so severe, that they almost met in the middle.

Jessica and Hermione looked at each other in silence for a moment, before both lifted their fingers to their nose, but Hermione was too slow on the draw.

"Shit!" she laughed. "I'll swap with you?"

"Not if you paid me," Jessica said, as she all but leapt from the sofa and left the room.

Hermione felt her stomach drop as she looked at Tobin who stared at her as though she held the answers to all of the impossible questions of the universe.

"I don't think Cressida knew how to perform the spell," she told him kindly, as much as it aggrieved her to be kind to him.

"Who is Crezerda? That's a silly name."

"Brilliant," she mumbled to herself, before sighing and throwing her head back in despair. "You know the damage might be permanent."

"I hope it is" came a voice from the doorway. "Even if he doesn't know who he is… we do."

Severus stood, leaning on the frame with his arms folded, taking in the scene.

"They'll never prosecute him like this" Hermione said. "He'll escape justice."

"I don't know," Severus said. "This feels a lot like karmic justice."

Hermione nodded, conceding. He wasn't entirely wrong.

"Hello," Tobin interrupted, quite peacefully unaware of the hatred he had felt for him just moments ago.

"Hello again," Severus said.

"Oh, have we met?"

Severus looked at Hermione and grinned.

"At least now I know what to do about all the people that hate me," he said. "Just one poorly cast spell, and voila! Clean slate!"

"Is that what you're going to do to Ron."

"Oh no, not at all" Severus said with a comical, boyish grin. "I still have so much I'd like to say to that cocky little arsehole. And I want him to remember every word."

* * *

 **AN:** Wow did you actually make it all the way down here? Nice. You're the best!


	24. Chapter 24

**AN:** Smut above the first cut, so if you don't wanna read it you can just skip past. Kisses!

* * *

24\. Starting Something

 **S.**

Hermione held up her index finger, the universal gesture for _will you just give me a fucking minute?!_ Severus groaned and sat back in his chair, kicking his feet up on his desk. His shoes squeaked against the wood, the tell-tale sound of new shoes. New shoes that he'd bought because she'd insisted that he come with her tonight. There was no point in rushing her when she was in this mood. What did it matter that they were supposed to be out the door twelve minutes ago?

Hermione took the hair-tie from around her wrist and secured her curls in a bun on top of her head. _Damn it._ They were definitely going to be late now. No escaping it. She'd eventually go upstairs and spend forever trying to get her hair to lie flat again, before finally giving up and using a charm that she could have used in the first instance. Then she'd grab her dress from the back of the door, put her dress on, stand in front of the mirror, take her dress off, try on a second dress, take _off_ the second dress and do so again with a third and perhaps a fourth, before finally returning to the first dress.

She did not often fuss about her appearance, and so when she did, like tonight, for a work function, then he knew that it must be important. She wanted to make a good impression, she said. Which, apparently, involved wearing an 'evening shoe', rather than a 'day shoe'. And so here he was, wearing his squeaky, fucking evening shoes in solidarity with Hermione who was still in her jumper and jeans.

She chewed at the end of her pen, staring at the stack of papers in front of her. It was hardly a stack; pages strewn across the desk haphazardly. She ran her hands across them, pushing them to the edge of the desk. It made him uncomfortable, truth be told. He preferred things to be in order. _His_ order. She was terribly inconsistent, he'd decided long ago, compulsively labelling everything with that bloody label maker, but she had no filing system. Her stapler was neatly branded ' _Hermione's Stapler_ ', but she had to ask to borrow _'Severus' Staples'_ because she'd misplaced hers. Worst of all; she refused to go digital.

God, she was a nightmare sometimes. That was why he'd refused to share his desk with her, and bought her one for her own. She had _her_ side of the home office, and he had his. Once or twice he'd had the idea to paint a line right down the centre of the wall and across the floor to stop her chaos from creeping on to his side. He had decided against it, however, preferring to deal with a little bit of clutter rather than divorce proceedings. Maddening as she was, he loved his wife, and there wasn't enough mess in the world to draw a line to keep them apart.

"I'm going as fast as I can," she said. "I just need to jot this quickly, before I forget."

"I wasn't rushing you," he said, coolly.

She stood up then, dropping the stack with a thud and rested her hand on her hip.

"I didn't say anything," he argued, knowing as he did, that he was rising to her temperature, instead of helping her cool down.

She tapped her foot, irritably. God, she had the disappointed mother thing down to an act and they didn't even have children.

That was the problem really, he knew. It was the root of all their arguments recently. She wanted more than anything to have a child. He did too. He'd been ready long before he'd even married her, but she'd chosen to concentrate on her career first, as of course she should, given that that was her priority at the time. But now she was thirty-six, and although well-established at the university, more successful by far than any of her peers, she was beginning to wonder, oh so theatrically, if her time would ever come.

"You sighed," she said. "You didn't have to say anything. I know when you're stewing."

Severus dropped his legs from the desk and folded his hands in his lap. He carefully let out a breath he had huffed, heaven forbid it sound like another sigh.

"Out with it," she said, narrowing her eyes in a light-hearted way that told him that this argument would be short-lived.

"Hermione, it was _you_ that wanted to go tonight. And you were very clear that we had to leave at quarter to six and _not a minute later._ "

She pulled up the sleeves of her jumper and leant back on her desk.

"Yes, well. That was weeks ago. I was far more optimistic then. I would never have imagined that I'd still have my references to finish the day before the deadline."

"That's why you should reference as you go," he muttered.

"What does it matter if I can't find the damn Oswald paper!?"

He stepped towards her desk and raised his eyebrows as he gestured broadly to her workstation.

"Perhaps if you kept your desk even a little tidy—"

"Severus. You know this is how I work best."

"Hmm. Is it? Or are you just too stubborn to admit that my way is better."

He grabbed the 'stack' of papers and began to thumb through them, throwing pages behind him, as he stepped around the desk and wandered the floor.

"Nope," he said. "Not this one."

She stopped, her lips parted and her nostrils flared.

"No… Nope… No… Ah," he said, pulling a file from the pile, with a smirk. "The Oswald paper."

"Arsehole," she said, swiping it from his hands, but leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Is that all the thanks I get?" he asked, feigning offence. "After I _saved the day_?"

She pouted, saying "I need to finish my work,", and turned to walk away from him, but he caught her and pulled her in for a real kiss.

:

 **H.**

She sank into him as he wrapped one arm around her waist, and with his hand he drew her mouth towards him, bringing his kiss warm to her lips. She felt her body respond to his touch as it always did. Even at moments inappropriate at these.

"We'll be late," she said, realising as she did that she was only protesting because she thought that she should.

He surveyed her, searching for the fire in her eyes that mirrored his and smiled, pleased with himself to find it.

"We're already late," he shrugged, as his hand slid down from her waist to her arse.

He curved the other hand under her chin, kissing her again and she surrendered to the wisdom of his logic, running her fingers up his chest and sliding a nail under his collar button.

"We'll have to be quick," she said.

"I can't see that being a problem," he said. "Just look at you."

She didn't look very special. She hadn't looked very special for quite some time. _He_ looked special, in his bottle green suit jacket atop his black ensemble. It seemed a shame that soon they would be strewn on the floor, but not a shame enough to make her change her mind. She could do this all night.

"God, I wish we had more time."

As he punctuated his kiss on her temples, down to her cheeks, she let out a low moan of satisfaction that sounded almost as a complaint, _there is never enough time with you._

"We don't have to go…"

"Yes, we do," she said, her disappointment evident, but she distracted herself by running her fingers across the bristle of stubble, salt-and-peppered on his jaw.

"I know, I need a shave," he said. "Kiss me anyway."

Hermione's face softened, her lips parted, and then curved in its pleasure; an unconscious response to his voice. It wasn't fair that he could do this to her. But she had tricks of her own. She nipped at his jaw with her teeth and he choked on his sharp inhale. As the tug of the smile came again, tight in the corners of her mouth, she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth so that her smile couldn't become a laugh, but his face lit up as he chuckled at himself.

"You see what you do to me," he groaned. "You're wicked."

She bit her lip again, this time because she knew exactly how the sight excited him; a throwback to hot and heavy nights in the many Malfoy Manor guest bedrooms, in which she had to physically keep her mouth shut so not to draw attention to their union. It was hardly her fault. Each time, with every room, they just got better and better until they hardly needed to try anymore. They just worked together. They'd lost themselves for a year or so, when sex became part of a schedule. There had been period maths and ovulation sticks and _I can pencil in a session of lovemaking just before midnight._ They'd lost their spontaneity – and with it, they wondered if they'd lost their spark. It had been a little frightening at first, but much to her surprise she found that a few conversations over a few weeks and a few bottles of wine, and they agreed. _Fuck it_! And they found their way back to one another. They found their way to this. It wasn't always perfect, but Hermione was long past caring for perfection. She was loved, she was safe, she was _happy_. How many people could say that and really mean it?

"I know you're biting your lip on purpose," he said, "but honestly it's working for me, so take off your jumper."

She moved slowly, sensually, tugging gently on the bottom of her jumper, knowing as she did that he would quickly become frustrated. Marriage with Severus was both simple and wonderful, for the most part, but what was life without a game once in a while?

"Oh stop it. You're killing me."

"You could always help—" Hermione said, pouting a little in a way that had proved always either successfully provocative or fuel for their laughter in the past.

She would take either. It was the great joy of their relationship. Their ability to laugh with one another. In recent years, they had even learned to laugh _at_ one another, aware of where the lines were drawn.

Severus rolled his eyes, muttering "ridiculous, woman," and he tugged the jumper over her head then discarded it to the floor.

"I have to do everything around here," he snipped, playfully, as he whipped off his belt, and shook himself out of his trousers.

She loved seeing him this way. Particularly because it thrilled her to know that she could still elicit this response.

"Come on then," he said with a smirk. "Reward me for my heroism."

"Heroism?" she baulked. "You found a paper…"

"Hero!" he said, pointing at himself with a thumb. "Sooo… The desk?"

His hand was flat on her arse, as he raised a single daring, eyebrow.

"Yeah?" she asked, piling her jeans on top of her jumper, and moved towards his desk. He grabbed her hand and pulled her in towards him.

"Ha! Oh no you don't," he teased. " _Your_ desk. I'd like to keep mine in order."

"Oh, how romantic!" she joked, clapping her hands together. "We can do it right there on the Oswald paper!"

"What do you want, woman? Candles? Rose petals? A bubble bath?"

He placed his hands under her arse and she jumped so that he could catch her and carried her the few steps to her desk. He slid the remaining pages to the side of the desk and dropped her gently onto the surface. As he stepped in towards her, her legs wrapped around his waist and she pulled each side of his shirt off his chest so that she could run her hands across the dark hair, grateful that at least he didn't insist on shaving that.

"I wouldn't say no to a bubble bath."

"The time, Hermione," he said, jutting his chin towards the clock.

"Right, sorry," she said, running her hands across the clasp of her bra until it came undone. "I suppose I'd better take this off for you then."

Severus narrowed his eyes as she shrugged out of her bra. As though to prove that he knew _exactly_ what he was doing – and good god, he did - Severus ran his thumbs across her nipples, that peaked beneath his touch, then pinched, hard enough to excite her, but not to hurt her, knowing that she was sensitive in more ways that one, when she was ovulating.

The ache in Hermione's chest grew, and she was no longer able to ignore it. It seemed to sweep as though contagious from the centre of her mass to all of her edges; her tingling scalp, her buzzing fingertips, her itching toes. Then it was at her core, pulsing gently, but picking up its speed and power. She gave in to its command, and she tucked her hand into Severus' boxers and wrapped her hand around his cock. He closed his eyes and a wave seemed to move his body as he sighed, "oh, yes," and they shared a dirty smile as she began to move her hand, and he pushed aside her knickers and placed his clever fingers on her clit.

Her hands joined his tip, edging at centre, and she guided him, or rather _paced_ him, and his hands came flat on the desk beside her as he made contact.

"Oh," was the first word he's said all this time. And what an intoxicating word it was.

He continued to circle her clit, as she had shown him she liked all those years ago, as he sank into her over and over, increasing his speed and vigour as he pitched inside her then eased to a couple of long, slow motions. He loved to tease her this way, and so she responded by teasing him, right back. Pulling his body down on to hers, her nails sharp at his shoulder-blades. He threw his head back, his long hair stippling his back. She began to match his rhythm then, angling her hips to deepen his strokes. The crack of his voice as he said, "yes, my girl, just like that," asserted that she was beginning to reach his end.

As continued to pitch deeper inside her and ran his long fingers across her bud. She could feel the magic swell as she knew it would; they knew exactly how to coax this out of one another, with years of practice. The feeling waxed and waned until, finally, she felt it surge through her and she dug her nails into the soft flesh of Severus' shoulders. Her heart clattered around in her chest as a wave of emotion and affection clutched its needy fingers around her impending orgasm. The heat in her centre rose still and threatened to set her on fire.

Hermione felt her eyes glaze, and her muscles tighten, then slacken as she broke apart under his touch. She felt his own frenzy build, just as hers had, and she knew that he was only seconds behind her. With a buck out of rhythm and a stutter in his voice as he said, "oh f-fuck," and unloaded inside her. She chuckled as she always did, as his eyes widened and he let out a long breath of satisfaction.

"You're amazing," he said, picking her up from the desk, dislodging himself and pulling her down on to the chair with him.

She pushed aside his hair that stuck to his cheek, his face warm and glowing, and she pressed her lips to his forehead. She wrinkled her nose, happily, as he wrapped his arms around her tightly, before slumping down in the chair and patting her stomach.

"We're so good at that."

She sat back, leaning her back on his stomach and wrapped her legs around his.

"We don't _have_ to go tonight, I suppose," she said. "I know I said that we should go, but—"

"Nooo," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You said we _had_ to go. We _couldn't miss it._ Those were your exact words."

"I suppose they won't really miss me."

He sighed dramatically, "I bought squeaky fucking shoes for nothing…"

:

* * *

 **S.**

"See," Hermione said, pulling his suit jacket from the bag that hung from a velvet hook on the back of the wardrobe door. "I told you that you'd find a use for your squeaky shoes."

"You think I want to wear squeaky shoes to the ministry?" he asked. "You think I want to draw attention to myself?"

Hermione placed the bag on the beg and ran her hands across to smooth the wrinkles. She didn't say anything. She hardly wanted to go to the ministry either, but they had little choice. Not entirely true. They didn't _have_ to do anything. They weren't called to testify. But they'd promised to attend in support of Narcissa, who had been.

Tobin Rogers have lived in blissful ignorance of his crimes for somewhere between two and eight years. Nobody was sure exactly _when_ he'd recovered his memories, but he was found out. That was the problem with St. Mungo's. There were far too many people much cleverer than Tobin and he was bound to be found out. A smarter man would have made a run for it, but Tobin was not a smart man. And so Severus chose to believe that he had not fooled anyone for long.

Hermione and Jessica sat either side of Narcissa on the bench outside the courtroom. They were able to comfort her in a way he or Lucius couldn't. They'd been through something that day at Tobin's house, Severus thought- something that he was on the outside of. He wondered if it was possible that Narcissa was Hermione's friend now, more than she was his. Not that he could complain. He had Lucius. And somehow, if you could believe it, he had Draco, who had matured into a man worth knowing. A man who had learned loyalty, and the value of his family for more than their name. He was a man who went out of his way for his friends. And Severus felt quite honoured, truth be told, that he could count himself as one.

Jessica leant into Narcissa and they both cooed over the child in Hermione's lap. Hermione doted on the boy. He was the greatest thing that had happened to her in years, she'd said as much, and there were so many other things to be grateful for. Little Gallus was nine months old. He was curious and sweet and more than content to lie in Hermione's arms as she read to him. It was her favourite thing to do. She'd told Severus that too. Hermione ran her fingers through the black curls on top of his head, soothing him, but he screwed up his face and began to fuss, just as the courtroom doors opened and the witnesses were summoned inside. The muttering crowd became an excitable queue, and the baby began to scream. Jessica reached out her arms, and Hermione bundled the boy into his mother's arms.

"I'd better stay out here with him," she said, looking to Narcissa for confirmation that this was okay.

"Of course," she said, kissing her grandson on his forehead, and slipping her fingers into her husband's hands. "I'll be fine." And Narcissa walked into the courtroom first

As they stepped towards the back of the queue, Severus felt a tug on his arm and turned to see that Hermione had stopped, her attention focused elsewhere, when he heard the strain of a familiar voice call, "Hermione, Severus. Hi!"

 _Cressida._

"You remember my husband, Stuart," she said.

The husband ran a hand through his tight dark curls and extended the other to shake Severus' hand. Then Hermione's. He was a few years younger than Severus, he thought; mid-forties probably.

 _More than a few years, then._

"Cressida, you look great," Hermione said, who had obviously seen the change in Cressida too. She was a little plumper than before (weren't they all) but still youthful and pretty.

"Yes," Severus said. "Family life obviously becomes you."

 _Might as well acknowledge it,_ he thought. _Get it out of the way._

"How are the girls?" Hermione asked.

"They're doing great. Mia starts school in September if you can believe it. Can't wait to have the little monkeys out the house—" she joked.

And that was all that Severus really acknowledged before he stopped listening. Cressida beamed as she spoke. She was happy, and so he would be happy for her. She deserved to be happy, after all. But it was never easy to spend time with people with young children, because people with young children love to talk about their young children. Which of course they should, but it was not always easy to listen to, particularly if the unsurprising result of this month's pregnancy test was still raw and unhealed.

"Don't you need to head into the courtroom first?" Severus asked.

"Oh," she said, patting her hand subconsciously. "No, I gave my testimony yesterday."

 _Damn._

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but before she had the chance, Cressida asked the question that everyone asked them eventually – it was never asked to do harm, and yet, somehow it stung every time.

"So, when are you two going to have kids?"

Severus wondered if Hermione's world began to spin at the sound of these words in the same way his did. At least Cressida said it with kindness and curiosity. The question was not accompanied by a look of judgement or pity. Mercifully, nor was it followed by the words, 'well, you'd better hurry up, nobody's getting any younger'.

"You'd make such wonderful parents," she said.

"Maybe soon," Hermione said. "Thank you."

"And how's work?" Severus asked her quickly, not wanting to dwell even more than he didn't want to hear about Gringotts.

"Ooh!" Cressida said, excitedly. "I meant to say! You'll never guess who I work with."

Severus felt a knot in his stomach as he knew _exactly_ who Cressida worked with. The only question was how Hermione would react to hearing the name.

"Bill Weasley," she said. "You remember… Ronald's brother?"

"Yes, I remem—"

Severus could not have been more grateful to hear the bustle of people that signified that the doors were now open to everyone and it was time to go into the courtroom.

"I'll see you soon," Cressida said.

"Yes," Hermione said. "I hope so."

Severus wasn't sure whether this was the truth. Cressida and Hermione had had a complicated relationship. Hermione quickly learning that you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped and Cressida absolutely did not want to be helped. Severus thought that this was a lesson that Hermione should have learned years ago but he would never mention this if he wanted to stay on her good side.

And of course he wanted to stay on her good side, because her good side meant coming home to the smell of freshly baked brownies – the only thing that she had learnt to cook better than he could - or being curled up on the sofa, intertwined in the most uncomfortable positions just so that they could hold each other as they each read. It meant sharing stories about their day out on the patio under the stars, eating leftovers from the night before because they'd both gotten home from work too late to cook. It was helping each other with whatever ridiculous problem they'd brought home from work. Neither of them willing to accept 'it's not possible' as an answer. It meant going out for dinner, or to the movies, or the theatre, taking it in turn to torture the other with their terrible choice of entertainment. Once even it meant attempting a game of bowling, which it turned out was a skill Severus did not know he had, and Hermione absolutely did not possess and so they never returned because both wondered if their relationship could withstand yet another thing that they competed to be the best at. It meant board games and Chinese takeaway and sex in the afternoon and falling asleep wrapped up in one another at 11pm and waking up as far away from her as possible, teetering on the edge of the mattress as she starfished beside him, taking up the whole fucking bed, curled up in the whole fucking duvet and he'd never been happier than he was when he was on her good side because her good side was the only place he wanted to be ever again for as long as he lived.

:

* * *

 **H.**

"Hey gorgeous," Lucius said, as he squeezed in beside his wife, who sat beside Hermione and Severus on the sofa.

"Hi, honey," Severus quipped, at the same time Hermione said, "alright, Lucius," with a wink and handed him a glass of brandy.

"Don't start that shit again," Draco said, taking Gallus from Jessica's arms and placing him to his chest. "Jessica and I are always left out…"

"That's not true," Severus said, flirtatiously raising his eyebrows towards Jessica. "I'd never want to leave Jess out."

Jessica gave him a comical wink, as she threw herself onto one of the armchairs, and tucked her feet up underneath her. Draco sat, cross-legged on the floor in front of Jess, with the baby in his arms.

Hermione slipped her hand onto Severus' knee, and he responded with his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him on the Malfoy's sofa. Lucius kissed his wife on her forehead and Narcissa smiled, a small, tight-lipped smile as with a flick of her wand, she opened the window so that the bird that carried her newspaper, could enter through it.

Narcissa had not wanted to take the stand last week, but with the weight of the world on her shoulders, she had straightened her back and looked into the eyes of the man who had wronged her. For once Narcissa had been able to tell her side of the story and he didn't get to strike her down into silence. He'd never listened to her before, but now he'd had no choice. He _had_ to hear what she said. Narcissa had surprised her with how soft she had been on the stand, truth be told. Hermione didn't know if she would have been so calm if the roles were reversed. But the world had made her hard once before, Narcissa said, and she would not let it do so again. And so when she had joined stepped out of the courtroom that day, although she trembled like a leaf, she smiled. She was proud of herself.

She smiled again this morning, this time with triumph when the verdict was front page news of The Prophet. There was cheering and yelling and hugging, but then there was peace. There was the knowledge that everything could be laid to rest, and from now on, everything would be different.

"But not too different," Narcissa said, with a glance at Hermione and then to her family that surrounded her. "I hope some things stay exactly the as they are."

She squeezed Hermione's hand, then turned to her husband as he said, "we should go out for lunch. My treat?"

Just because it was Lucius' treat, didn't mean that it was Lucius' choice, he would quickly learn. After an unnecessarily lengthy discussion, and then eventually a vote, it was decided that they would head into London to eat. And so they stepped into the Malfoy's fireplace and one by one they flooed into Diagon Alley, which was a brilliant plan, they thought, until they realised that that was hardly a decision at all, and they had still yet to decide where to eat

"Just pick somewhere," Severus grumbled.

When the volume rose again as everyone began to talk heartily over one another, Hermione noticed that Jessica had begun to walk away from the group. Hermione followed. Severus followed Hermione, and then Narcissa followed, until they were stood outside a French café.

"Oh, Jess. Really?" Draco asked. "I prefer to know what it is I'm ordering."

"But I love it here."

Narcissa and Hermione studied the menu pinned to the glass front of the café.

"It sounds quite nice," Narcissa said. "Oooh, maybe I'll have the—"

But Hermione felt a hand wrap around her wrist before Narcissa finished her sentence and she met Severus' eyes. He nodded his head towards the crowd of people that passed by on the street.

"Look," Severus said.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure what it was she was supposed to be looking at, but she looked anyway, in the direction that Severus pointed. As though drawing their attention to the crowd, caused the crowd to shift and reveal their secret, and Hermione's mouth dropped open to see—

"Harry fucking Potter," Draco said from behind Hermione. "Shit. When was the last time you heard from him?"

"Years ago," Hermione said with a shrug.

It was an inevitability to run into someone from her old life in London. Really it was a surprise that it had taken so long. And of course, it _would_ be Harry of all people. It couldn't be Neville or Luna, who she thought she might like to see.

 _In fact, maybe it's time to get back in contact with some old friends. Maybe this is a sign,_ Hermione thought, knowing full well that she didn't believe in nonsense like signs. She just wanted to check in with her old friends.

Harry's black hair was longer and more unruly than ever she'd seen it, as he ran his palms through the mess on his crown, ruffling as though this would style it.

"God, he looks like his father," Severus said.

And as though the gruff intonation of his old Potions professor's had gained his attention, Harry snapped his head upwards towards them. He looked flushed, stressed, as he stooped down behind him and scooped up a young boy into one arm and carried three shopping bags in the other. As he looked back at them, his eyes focused on Hermione and he smiled- a real smile, that wrinkled his eyes. Then he took in the group with which Hermione stood, and Harry's smile faltered. Hermione felt a grumble of irritation as she watched him regard them, then to her surprise, he began to walk over.

"Ten pounds says that he hexes one of us," Lucius said from behind a stiff smile and Draco snickered.

"Come on," Jess said. "Let's head in," and the Malfoys disappeared into the café.

Hermione felt her heart quicken beneath the layers that surrounded her – her shirt, her jumper, her scarf tucked neatly into her coat. She hoped that nobody else could hear it as it started to pound. She had no reason to be afraid. This was _Harry_ – her best friend of fourteen years. Yet she was anxious, anyway; unsure if Harry still felt the same way. There had been so much love between them once. Was it possible that you could lose that sort of affection? Hermione didn't think so, because as he stepped closer, and she saw how his face was mirrored in his son's, and how the child looked more like the boy she had once known than the man who stood before her, she felt warm.

 _Like coming home,_ she thought.

"Hermione," he said, cheerfully. "It's been so long," and opened his arms to embrace her.

The young boy in his arms must have received a mouthful of Hermione's hair but he did not complain. However, Severus seemed less comfortable, and she felt his body stiffen beside her as Harry said, "it's good to see you Sna— Severus…"

Severus nodded, sternly, and Harry's genuine smile fell a tad lopsided. A nod was about as good as Harry could expect. They'd come to a begrudging understanding all those years ago. Harry had been the one to speak on Severus' behalf and keep him out of Azkaban, after all. But respect and friendship were not the same thing. Especially not to Severus. He respected many, but the gift of his friendship was one he reserved for only those close to him. If Harry thought that a little something like keeping him out of prison would endear Severus to him then he was sorely mistaken. Hermione had saved his life and it had taken weeks for him to even want to express his thanks.

There was, Hermione thought, nothing more precious than Severus' friendship because with it came an unwavering, undying loyalty – that meant he would even go against his better judgment in the name of friendship. Noble and ridiculous as he was.

"I heard you got married. I'm so happy for you, Hermione," he said. "For both of you."

This wasn't exactly the reaction she'd anticipated. She was quite used to questions when it came to her relationship.

"Thank you," she said, caught off guard by his easy acceptance. "How's Ginny?"

"She's great. Although she's heavily pregnant—"

Hermione took a second to process the news. The initial sting never really got easier, no matter how happy she was to hear it.

"What wonderful news," she said, pleased to find she meant it.

"A girl," he said. "We're thinking of calling her Lily."

Harry glanced at Severus cautiously, who looked a just as uncomfortable as he peered back, giving him a stiff smile.

"That's lovely," Hermione said.

"No kids for you two?" Harry asked.

 _They always ask. At least this time—_

Severus responded for her, dropping his hand to clasp hers.

"Not yet," he said solemnly.

"I've been meaning to ask. How is Ronald?" Hermione asked, changing the subject. "I've not heard anything about him for years. It's like he fell off the face of the earth."

It was this that changed the air between them.

"God, I'm so sorry about all of that Hermione. I didn't want to choose sides. You know me, I was always caught in the middle of your arguments and this time I was —"

Hermione wondered if she was scowling, because he shut his mouth, tightly.

"No, you're right," he said. "No excuses. I'm sorry. I hope that you'll forgive me… and Ginny. I know she's uncomfortable with how things were left too—"

"No need," Hermione said, and Severus cleared his throat beside her. "Honestly," she said, ignoring Severus. "It's all water under the bridge. I really want to know. How is he?"

"Ron's in Romania, Hermione," Harry said, his face screwed up with confusion. "I thought you knew…"

"Romania? What the hell for?"

"He lives there. He works with Charlie… with Dragons."

"Why?" she asked, her face just as screwed up, looking just as ridiculous as Harry, she assumed.

"Well," Harry said, with a glance towards Severus. "He was under the impression that if he didn't leave the country, he wouldn't live to see his 30th birthday."

The corner of Severus' mouth twitched, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"I wonder what gave him that idea," Hermione said, glaring at Severus, with a smile on her own lips to show him that she was not really angry with him.

"It sounds to me, Hermione, that for once in his life Ronald Weasley did something right."

:

 **S.**

Severus unfastened his belt and placed the day's Prophet at the side of the toilet, ready for his favourite part of his morning routine. Just as he was flicking through to find the article that he'd been looking forward to – changes to the Dark Arts curriculum at Hogwarts - he was disturbed by clattering above him that drew his attention outside the room, instead of to the paper. And what was the point in bringing a paper to the bathroom if your wife insists on making all that noise?

He heard her thump down the stairs like she was being chased, and he wondered for a moment if she was.

"Bloody hell, woman," Severus said, as she began to pound on the door. "Are you okay?"

"Open up," she said. "Please."

She didn't sound like she was in trouble. Nor did she sound stressed.

 _She's fine_ , he told himself, as the knocking came again.

"Oh my God," she said. "Open the door."

"I was just about to take a dump, for Christ's sake, Hermione."

"I can't wait!"

"Tell that to my arsehole."

 _A man can't even shit in peace,_ he thought.

He rolled his eyes as Hermione flung something under the door.

"Fine," he said, buttoning his trousers and readjusting his belt, "I'll bite," as he reached down to collect the chunk of white plastic from the floor.

The white plastic test.

The pregnancy test.

The _positive_ pregnancy test.

"Hermione?" he asked, pulling open the door with shaking fingers. "Are you serious?"

She nodded, clutching a second, positive pregnancy test to her chest. The look on her face was both exhilarated and terrified, or somewhere in the middle, echoing the sentiments he felt.

"This is how you choose to tell me?" he asked, incredulously, gesturing to the bathroom behind him.

He just stared at her – this brilliant, incredible, beautiful, ridiculous woman who had given him more than he would even have dreamed to ask for.

He opened his mouth to say something meaningful, to find the right words to tell her all of the things that she needed to know, to express all of the ways that he felt, but he couldn't find them, and so he closed his mouth.

He and Hermione had come so far in their relationship. They'd misunderstood one another in the beginning. They'd lied to one another. He'd taken so long to finally find the courage to admit to himself how he'd felt about her. Then he'd taken his sweet time coming around to the idea of actually telling her how he felt. He'd tricked her into admitting her feelings. Then he'd struggled to be open – fought the instincts that told him to hide things from her – and eventually, he'd found that being honest with her wasn't as difficult as he'd thought. They'd learned to understand one another; they'd learned to love one another. They'd learned each other's languages – they were past mix-ups and miscommunications. Sometimes, they found that they could anticipate what the other was thinking. God, they'd even learned to fight with one another. It had been hard, but they'd made it.

They had _finally_ learned how to communicate. So why was it that now, when it seemed so important that he articulate his feelings that he found himself without words?

Severus pulled her into his arms and clung on to her as though he could express himself without the words, because, he decided, really there _were_ no words to properly encompass the enormity of his feelings, or how happy she had made him.

"Hermione, I can't even begin to express—"

She shifted her weight onto her tiptoes so that she could interrupt him with a kiss.

"You don't have to, my love. I already know."

* * *

 **AN:** And that's it.

I know that perhaps this wasn't the story that you expected, but I hoped you liked it anyway! It was so much fun to write two characters who are always in their head and help them follow their heart (gross, hahah)

Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed etc. Especially those who reviewed numerous times and kept me trudging through when I was finding it difficult to write. You the real MVPs. Love you all!  
Hopefully see you soon... but not too soon. I got shit to do!

K xxx


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